


From the Flames

by syredronning



Series: Draws [18]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Dark Past, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Happy Ending, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Kinky, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:10:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 77,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/syredronning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a while, they all lick their wounds... before they reassemble, determined to emerge from the physical separation with new-found energy and ready to resume their relationship and future like originally planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my eternal supporter and great beta shagungu, without whom this series would never get finished.
> 
> The title comes from the Robbie Williams song "Phoenix from the Flames".

The man on the screen looks tired but content; slouched on a couch in fine black pants with naked feet propped up on the seat, a white shirt half unbuttoned, a glass of red wine in his hand, he clearly doesn't pose for official purpose. Dark-gray hair is growing out of its military cut without losing any of the distinguished look it adds to his owner. Who, with a level voice, starts speaking after a last sip of wine. 

_Hello my wonderful lovers,_

_it's been just four days here on Jupiter, but it feels like an eternity. And of course, I only need to turn my back for a moment and Mori sends the Enterprise out of direct transmission range and the Nautilus vanishes to places unknown. So you get this recorded video from me, hope it reaches all of you in good health._

_I'm insanely busy, trying to get a handle on how to work in a civilian business surrounding. As anticipated, there's quite a difference in thinking, and more than once I've already confused the people I work with – and they confused me. In Starfleet, everything's based on definite, laid-out rules – here, the rules are much less clear and a lot more dynamic. My work ethic and self-organization also have seen better days. It shows that I haven't put serious work into anything since the Borg project. However, so far everyone is hopeful that I'll get accustomed shortly. I'll definitely try my best not to disappoint Iro and myself._

_Iro has assembled a truly terrific, diverse group of people on the top layer of his business, and they work together in an almost familial way – ready to get into sharp discussions when it comes to business, but always respectful and friendly on the personal level. Besides the business people – the circus, as he calls it – there's great support crew which includes Doctor Vlian'i who's got an eye on my health thanks to the information you shared with her, Leonard. She's Deltan and I've got to admit that I felt a little uncomfortable at first because it's hard not to get aroused by her touch, even though she's far from being my type. But as the saying goes, you've got to be dead not to find a Deltan attractive, and she obviously takes the weaknesses of us other species in a stride, as she's already been working here for five years._

_All in all, I don't think I could've asked for a better place to start my life after Starfleet, aside from our original plans. Which I keep in the back of my mind, always. Like in moments when Iro speaks of long-term plans and I note that the time horizon I'm comfortable with is one or two years, but beyond that… it's the four of us who'll decide anything after that, never I alone._

_So no matter where you are right now and when you receive this message, remember that I love all of you and that I'm looking forward to seeing some or all of you within the next months, if the stars are good to us._

_All my best, eternally – Chris._

The glass put aside by now, the man leans forward and runs his fingertips over the eye of the cam in a virtual kiss; then the recording ends.

 

Jim leans forward and switches off the screen. The slope of his shoulders speaks of frustration, and Leonard reaches out, massaging the tense muscles. 

For a second, Jim lets him, then sinks back and forces Leonard to pull away his hand. There's a deep frown on the captain's face as their gazes meet.

"Jim..."

"It's... I don't mind that he seems to be happy. I just don't get it how easily Dael and he seem to have gotten over her miscarriage. As if it never happened."

Leonard puts his hand on Jim's leg, trying to convey comfort. "We've gone over that already. As far as I see, it's either that reaction or something much, much worse. Just remember how Chris was after the beach, when things went downhill because of the theta wave generator. Would you prefer such a development, him going back into some psychotic state?"

Jim sighs. "No, of course I wouldn't." He bends forward with elbows coming to rest on his knees, and rubs his face. "Rationally I know that this is a lot better than the alternatives. But deep in my guts, I still have a hard time dealing with their reaction. Sometimes it feels as if I was the one who really wanted the baby. Chris wasn't too pleased about the pregnancy, was he?"

"Chris needed a little time to adjust – it's not like he'd ever planned on having kids, and this was definitely unexpected," Leonard replies carefully. "The whole fatheraspect isn't really his thing, but he was absolutely ready to support Dael in this, and do whatever necessary to have all of us settle on Earth together."

Pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes, Jim keeps sitting with his head bowed.

"And Dael... you know I'm no fan of old Spock, but that his route was going right by the planets of her past surely didn't happen by chance, and we owe Chris and him for her quick rebound. No telling what she would've done with such a revelation a few years ago, but I doubt it would've been pretty."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe gone on a bender like after Raol's death. Though she didn't shave her head this time."

"No, she didn't," Leonard has to agree, having wondered about that himself. "But maybe that shows how far she's come in the last years."

"Yeah, maybe. I just wish..." Jim finally lets his hands sink, slightly leaning against Leonard who automatically wraps his arm around Jim's shoulder. "It happened when we visited Tom's farm together, while you were on the beach. The way Dael looked when she said goodbye to Vince and Angie... that was the moment when I realized that my dream of the four of us living on a farm together, raising children, was one I really, badly wanted to become true. And that I'd give away my captaincy for that without a second thought." Jim looks up at him, jaw set. "I'm crazy, aren't I?"

"No crazier than many other men who like to see their children grow up."

"I wanted to become captain of the _Enterprise_. I got her, and then I earned her. I don't have to prove my worth anymore."

"No, you don't. Illyon really wanted to have you on her team, but even she said that you're the best captain for this ship. She was glad Spock instantly agreed to return to First Officer."

"Well, I'm still sorry about that. I feel as if I stole a promotion from him."

Leonard chuckles. "You must have missed the flicker of relief on his face when you asked him. He would've taken the captaincy, but he prefers to serve under you."

"Not that I get it. He'd be great."

Leonard hums, not completely agreeing. In his opinion, Spock still lacked gut instincts; following rules only got you so far. But he would've happily given the _Enterprise_ to Spock if they had left like planned – and just as happily he'd been willing to yank the captaincy and the CMO position from the hands of their designated successors. If they couldn't be on Earth, they needed to be here. Otherwise, Jim really wouldn't know what to do with himself and his life. 

He certainly understands the impact of the _Narada_ events on Chris better now – it wasn’t simply losing the captaincy, but was more like losing the ground beneath his feet. Possibly Leonard had underestimated that because he'd mostly seen the recruiter and Academy instructor, and little of Chris the Captain. Which had been the one and only position Chris had ever really wanted, and which Leonard now tries to secure for Jim, by all means.

Stroking Jim's hair, he says, "Come on, let's go to bed."

Jim follows him, stripping down to his shorts before slipping under the covers, Leonard swiftly joining him. He curls around his husband, glad when Jim melts into his touch instead of drawing away like he had done in the first week. It'll hurt for a while, Leonard knows, but Jim would get over it and then, if they're very lucky, Dael would be back and they could have another go at their plans... if they still wanted to.

***

The IXOS corporation's buildings on Callisto are almost like a city of their own, not unlike Starfleet in the bay area, with various complexes spread beneath the ground of the main capital. For security and heat preservation reasons, only few buildings on the moon are above the ground.

So of course, Iro had put up the tallest of them all as the housing complex for the higher ranks of IXOS, a hundred first-class suites with each a view to die for of Jupiter hanging low in the sky, with lots of meeting rooms and recreation areas. There's a gym, a pool, the medical center with Dr. Vlian'i, and on the top floor, an incredibly good restaurant staffed around the clock, in which the members of the circus meet for meals. 

It's where Chris goes tonight, feeling a little too lonely to just remain in his spacious suite, hitting the exquisite cold and hot buffet for some food. 

"The duck is delicious, isn't it?" 

Chris turns his head, looking at Iro. 

"Glad you joined us tonight," his new boss and friend says. "You're probably tired of hearing it, but within the circus, we write Socializing with a capital S."

"I know. Amusingly, it's advice you get at Starfleet as well, especially once you're one of the higher-ranked officers. I just haven't been used to doing it for a while," Chris replies, thinking of the many meals taken alone over the course of the last few years, partly by choice, partly due to the growing estrangement from his fellow officers.

And of course, Dael's prolonged absence during her mission – a memory that mingles with and amplifies his challenged mood tonight. Recording a vid just doesn't compare with a conference call; right now, it mostly reminds him of all the frustrating monologues he'd engaged in through the years of his ongoing long-distance relationship.

"Come, sit with us," Iro says and without much ado finagles Chris into sitting down at their large, round table. When he started here, people told him that Iro and George never sit with the same people whenever they join the breakfast crowd or the evening buffet, but with him, it seems to be a little different. In the last four days, this is the sixth time he's dined with them, while the other table occupants cycle around. He's not sure whether it's about making his entry easier, or about not being sure he can manage alone.

Everyone utters some words of welcome, including George, who as always sits at Iro's side with a serene expression on his face. This man had probably been the biggest surprise of them all. When Chris had gotten to know the couple on the beach, the two had indulged in their private game of master and slave twenty-four seven, with George as Iro's _peon._ The silent, somewhat nondescript man had walked around with a shaved head and in cheap worker's clothes, always in a submissive, serving position. Here within the IXOS top circle, George turns out to be the not-so-gray eminence behind Iro, always dressed in impeccably tailored designer suits – one of the very few in such attire – and managing a large part of the daily business. No decision seems to take place without George's explicit _Go_ , which in Chris' case must mean that George had actively approved of Iro's plan to bring Chris onboard. 

Somehow that idea had surprised Chris, considering that George and he hadn't gotten as close as he and Iro had. Possibly he had expected to be less welcome by George, similar to the way that Leonard had never been very welcoming of Iro Back on the beach, Leonard on the one hand had been relieved that the contact with Iro and especially his horse Ashaire had helped Chris to get back on his feet, literally – on the other hand, Leonard had frequently been irrationally jealous of Iro. Not that Iro or Chris had given him any actual reason for that reaction; Iro and George are one of the most monogamous couples Chris has ever known, so even if Chris felt sexually attracted to Iro, the man was absolutely off-hands.

Determinedly pulling himself out of his pondering, Chris concentrates on his meal. To his left, one of the younger computer assistants, a Rigellian, lively recounts a naughty story about a group sex scene he'd accidentally been invited to. Within the circus, everyone seems to be unusually open, a certain _You are okay, I’m okay_ flair about everything – species, age, gender, and sexual orientation. Maybe not unsurprising with Iro and George as the core figures, but nothing Chris had ever experienced before. Still challenged by the whole acclimatization to his new situation, he keeps holding back with his own life story, although he's quite sure that his public profile, which contains a lot of information about his private life and relationship situation, has gone around the group.

To his right, one of the older financial experts agitatedly speaks about the challenge of getting a deep space flight license. Noticing that he's her seat neighbor, the human woman quickly turns towards him.

"I'm sure this must sound ridiculous to you as a former Starfleet captain, but the tests are incredibly hard for me. Everything from engineering know-how and warp-drive physics to interplanetary customs and law."

Chris lifts his eyes from the plate. "It's been so long since I earned my captain's license that I can barely remember it. But I helped a cadet a few years ago, and I was definitely glad that I didn't need to pass certain navigation tests again. From a certain point on, you just need to rely on your specialist bridge crew."

"So, do you still have your license?" the woman – he really can't remember her name although he'd been introduced to most people already – asks him. 

"I… frankly don't know," Chris says slowly. "I… " 

"I think these licenses are issued with a ten year validity period," another woman on the opposite side of the table helps him out. "After that, you need to reapply and prove you spent at least twenty hours in the center seat of a vessel above 1 million tonnage."

"A number which I always met," Chris says. "Until, well…" 

"I'm sure we'll travel with the _Arrivo_ in the upcoming months," a middle-aged Trill says. "Captain B'rl would probably love to meet you, she's always a little frustrated by us merchant souls." The group laughs about what seems to be an insider joke.

A little overwhelmed from the sudden interest, Chris uses his empty plate as a ready excuse to leave the table. 

"They're right, you know," Iro says when they end up at the buffet together once more. "The ship we use for major travel would be the right size."

"Thanks, but I'm done with flying," Chris says a little sharply. Why does everyone want to push him into that job again?

"If you say so," Iro says, edging along sarcasm but ending with an accepting nod.

"I'm done for tonight," Chris says. "See you tomorrow." 

"Good night." 

He can feel Iro's gaze resting on his back as he leaves the room. Back in his luxurious and very quiet suite, he looks out of the windows at Jupiter low in the sky, above it stars sparkling, almost close enough to reach out and take a hold on them. 

Then he turns and sits down on the bed, reaching out for the hypo with his daily dose of life-supporting meds, adding a little sleep supporter into the mix. 

If he dreams anything, he can't remember it the next morning.

***

Years ago, Dael had learned how to behave in the vicinity of Vulcans, which far too often had meant to ignore what she felt was an arrogant and overbearing manner. 

To fly with Spock, though, turns out to be very different. Not only is he, much like Christopher, an extremely encouraging and approachable teacher, but he's also surprisingly not adverse to touch. 

Just a second ago he'd lingered close to her side, his hand brushing hers when he'd given her a cup of tea, in a way that would be normal for humans, but is completely unusual for a Vulcan. 

She looks at the front screen, out into the stars. A short glance at the automatic pilot settings tells her that they're safely on route, and there's no reason she should stay in ops, but it's a peaceful place. It's a good place to think. She curls more deeply into the oversized tee she wears, one of Christopher's. She misses him badly, and had thought of asking him to come with her – but when he'd told her about Iro's offer, she'd pushed that aside.

She'd never seen Christopher happier than at the beginning of their relationship, when he'd been extremely involved in the Borg project. Putting long hours into an important, challenging project brings him satisfaction that nothing else does, surely not sitting around on this small ship on the quest for someone else's past.

And maybe, well, she doesn't want him to learn everything about her... who knows what they'd find there. Maybe there's only that darkness she sometimes fears, and what would that leave for them...

She looks down at the console, brushes through her hair. She didn't shave it this time; for Christopher, who still dislikes that look on her, too much of Nero… and for herself, because it alienates everyone around her and she's done with being the eternal outsider. It would be challenging enough to face the places. No need to add an additional problem.

Having emptied the cup without really noticing, Dael gets up from her crouched position and walks to the back of the ship. For a private vessel, it's comfortable and large, with two bed rooms and a joined living room. Spock, she notes, has retreated to his room, and she peeks inside through the open door. He's flat on his back and meditating, arms and hands folded in a characteristic posture, the fingertips of his forefingers meeting. She looks at him for a while. They're only really getting to know each other during this trip, but somehow it feels as if she's known him for an eternity already.

There's pain, regret, and a quest. There's also a shadow of his past, something he sees in her that she doesn't know yet – or someone, maybe. 

Opening his eyes, Spock slightly tilts his head in an unspoken question.

Dael walks to him, placing one of her hands onto his. They're much too cool for a Vulcan, and she closes her fingers around them, feeling his wrinkled skin, the weight of his age.

"Let me rest with you," she says quietly. 

He stares at her for a moment, then opens one arm. She lies down, slim enough to fit next to him on the meditation bench, and curls around him, his arm cradling her shoulder.

Ops is peaceful, but not being alone is better.

***

_Hey Nat,_

_just a short note that Eric and I managed to drop by and visit Chris in his illustrious new position. One week in, our dear friend is clearly struggling with the life of a civilian and the strongly commercial aspects of his projects; of course he knew how to handle 'fleet budgets, but doing actual financial number crunching on the IXOS scale is something else._

_We spent the night with him in our eternal mission to keep Chris from reverting to hermit state. He complained about our interference but he'll survive. Here's hoping he finds someone to have some fun with, or that Dael is a little quicker to return than we all fear._

_Hugs and kisses, have a drink on us -_

_John and Eric_

***

The video message sits on Jim's PADD for two days without getting listened to, and not because he's so busy.

Communication with Dael is still a little challenging, despite their two real-time chats before her departure from Earth – her behavior just reminds him too much of a certain other person of whom he'd rather not think at all. 

It's only when Bones shoves the PADD into his hands that night, ordering him to _fucking grow up and listen to it_ , that he takes a detour to the bathroom for a moment of privacy. A little annoyed, actually, because he doesn't really get how Bones, who'd always been so critical of Dael, seemed to have mutated into her biggest supporter. A strange role reversal.

She looks good and relaxed, sitting on a high-tech console of what's got to be Spock's ship, her hair still in place, her tattoos bright in the artificial illumination.

Startled, Jim finds that he still begrudges her this apparent peace of mind, and then hates himself a little for that. Sometimes he really dislikes the man he's become over this.

With a sigh, he starts the replay. 

_Dear Jim,_

_I know you wanted a real-time communication with me, but with the Enterprise suddenly out of range, I sent this message to you instead._

_It's strange to fly with Spock – he's so unlike any other Vulcan I've ever known. I barely knew him before this flight, but he already feels like an old friend. He allows me to fly the Nautilus, although he sets the course. I know you all are curious what he does with his time, but he likes to keep his secrets, and I will keep his….like I do for us all._

She smiles sadly, her mood shifting and dampening her former brightness, like a cloud passing the sun.

_I know you don't want any of this. Not my flight, not Christopher's journey. You feel ripped off by fate. I'm sorry for that. It's what I mostly have in mind whenever I think of you. I'm sorry for not having taken everything into consideration. For causing the whole problem by not being careful. For coming into your life with all the… baggage I'm carrying. You have enough to deal with. You don't need my problems. I'm sorry, and I want to make it better. That's why I left. You don't have to agree with it, but I hope you understand it anyway._

She puts her fingers on the cam, a gesture all of them are using by now. It never looked so empty to Jim before.

_Talk to you soon, Jim. Take care, and all my best to Leonard._

_Love, Dael._

"I wanted it," Jim states angrily at her unresponsive face. "I wanted to be a part of your life and if that meant dealing with your past, so what, you did that with mine too! But you didn't even give me a choice." 

He starts typing, then deletes the words several times before giving up – there's just no reply in him that wouldn't widen the current rift between them. Then he stalks out of the bathroom, throwing the PADD onto the table.

"Next time you watch it and give me a summary," he snaps at his husband who's sprawled on his stomach on their bed, reading some scientific journal.

"Huh?" Bones turns towards him, drawing his brows together.

"If not for Chris, I'm sure she would've called everything off. Our relationship, _everything_ we've ever planned, and just left for good. "

Bones thinks about it for a moment, "Yes, maybe she would've done that," he agrees – not exactly what Jim wants to hear.

"Fuck it all." With verve Jim pushes his fist into the nearby wall. He can see Bones flinch as something cracks. 

But instead of uttering the expected word of warning, Bones gets up. "Keep going," he states.

"What, ruining a perfectly good wall?" Jim says scathingly. "I'd rather…" He screws his eyes shut as the realization hits.

"You'd much rather go to a bar, get drunk and start a brawl. Feel your fist in the face of some asshole. Get a fist into your own. Hit rock bottom for a night just to get rid of that shitty feeling inside of you… just to know you're alive." Bones draws close. "It's been a while since you've been in that mood."

Jim makes a non-committal noise. Actually, he was in this mood to some extent when he'd gone biking with Dael, but he's not going to bring that up. That day when she was great and wonderful and didn't make him feel so fucking useless and unwanted.

_All that fucking old shit…_

"Yeah, I know." Bones sighs. "All that fucking old shit. I can't get you a bar brawl, and I won't hit you, but I could offer half a bottle of bourbon and fucking your brains out."

"It's not going to fix it," Jim mutters, although in the back of his head, an idea catches on.

"Only time will fix this, kid, nothing else," Bones says with the calm of someone who's been through a lot of shit himself. "And only if you allow it to get better."

Jim rubs his hand, the one that's hurting from his punch to the wall. Sitting this out won't help – he needs to feel something, and only Bones can give that to him. "I don't need a bar fight, but I do need the pain tonight. I need to… cry." He turns towards his man, whispering in a plea, "Can you make me cry?" 

That startles Bones, takes him aback. "Uh, I could, but..."

"It's just like... nobody really cried over the boy we could've had," Jim says, eyes averted. If Bones finds his sentiment sick, he doesn't want to see that reflecting on his face. "Someone needs to. And I couldn't either..." 

Bones takes a deep breath. "I see. If you need it, I'll do it."

"Yes. Please." Jim stretches his hands out in a quiet offering.

It's a very long night.

***

No matter whether she calls Chris from the same city or another planet, she always hits his inbox, so she just leaves a message. 

_Hello Chris,_

_Nat here. Like promised, I'm looking after your apartment. I think your plants are a little in love with me, at least they start re-growing a few green leaves. But that's the only sign of life there and I can understand why you didn't want to stay on Earth. Lots of ghosts, somehow._

_Robert's holding sold off the company you've been looking into. He wanted me to relate this news to you._

_With you out of Starfleet, it feels as if that aspect of my past came to a closure, most of our class are retired by now or whatever… Strange to learn that I've still been living a bit through you when it came to that. I can tell you, raising children is great but it costs a lot too. I never regretted adopting Tom, but that doesn't mean that I never wished in the deep of the night that I could've found another solution…_

Nat looks away from the cam's eye, shaking her head a little. This lasts quite a bit longer than expected, but what the hell, they'd always been frank with each other. 

_You never came to me for relationship advice, and that's fine because I never quite understood how you handled yours, but I've got to say that knowing you're out in the black again, and from everything I hear from you (and John and Eric, for the matter) – sure, you're struggling but I have no doubt that you love every minute of it because there's nothing like a challenge and chance to grow for you … well, I just wanted to say that I think what you're doing now is a lot more like the Chris Pike I've known since day one of the Academy, and I'm glad to know you're back._

_If I overstepped a boundary with this comment, I'm sorry. You know I love all of your tribe by now, they've really grown on me. I want you all to be happy… but I'm not sure it would have worked the way you seemed to have had in mind. Farming is good and fine for some people, but imagining you doing nothing but that is just a loss for the universe. You've got too much knowledge in your brain for that, you need to put it to good use. Don't throw away your gifts and your second chance._

_Okay, now I'm really overstepping, so I'll sign off. Feel free to send me an annoyed mail back if you want, I can take it. Speak to you soon, all the best from Robert too – much love and lucky stars, talk to you soon._

Knowing Chris, she doesn't expect an answer anytime soon. The vid that arrives a day later definitely takes her by surprise

_Dear Nat_ , he starts, and it looks as if he's made the recording during some break with the cam of his PADD in a quiet corner amidst a noisier surrounding. He's looking a little tired, his mood a little somber as he speaks, which possibly reflects the subject.

_I'm not angry with you, not at all. Thanks for speaking your mind. I can see where you're coming from, and I admit that I had my doubts about the plan when it first came up. But over the last months, my opinion has changed. Not that it helped._

He stares into thin air, deep in thought, before going on. 

_I think I would've been ready for the full program, family and children and farm life. It's something I never had, never thought I'd want, and now… I don't know whether I'll ever get it. What you and all but the doc possibly forget is… I am living on what feels like borrowed time, with a daily drug cocktail to keep me functioning and a Borg implant in my head to keep it ticking. Which needs to get changed in less than five years, in a risky surgery. So yes, it would've been the perfect timing to start my new life right now. As you well know, it didn't come to pass the way it was planned. I like being here but it's still second best by far. No comparison to what we could've had._

With a deep frown, he shakes his head about himself, visibly gearing up.

_I don't think about it most of the time, as that won't change a thing. Dael embarking on her journey was necessary, and I support her fully. Things are what they are. I've learned to live with that. And I won't break over it, no matter what happens._

His voice is rough as he repeats those words, like conjuring a personal oath. The intense moment breaks when someone from outside the cam calls for him, and he answers with a hand wave.

_Need to go. Have a good time on Earth or wherever Robert drags you to – talk to you soon._

The vid ends abruptly.

Nat doesn't regret having sent her first message, but she definitely regrets having put Chris in such a bad mood. 

***

Dael doesn't mind that Spock's planned route doesn't go directly to Khal'kohachi; she can do with some more time between the departure from Earth –and the separation from Christopher – and the first challenging place.

On their first stop, they visit a small Vulcan settlement to deliver medical supplies and new technology and spare parts for farming and energy creation. Curious, she looks at some of the labels and where the material came from – it seems that Spock is building a support network of his own, using partly official but mostly unofficial channels. 

"Why can't they just apply for support from the new colony?" she asks him in the evening, when they take a breath of fresh air outside after a meal they've shared with the elders of the village.

"The main colony is still being built, in need of so many things; none of the Vulcans here would dare to ask for support. They've decided to stay here, aware that this means caring for themselves."

"And you support them why…?"

"As the past clearly shows, having just one homeworld means having a single point of failure," Spock says. "Also, I might have a certain preference for supporting people who make decisions that look illogical from outside, but have their own inner logic."

Dael looks at him thoughtfully. "Did you attend the Vulcan Science Academy, or did you tell them to fuck off, like our timeline's Spock did?"

Spock staples his fingers. "It appears we are quite alike on that point, although I didn't speak out in front of the commission. I only returned their message of admission with a two-line refusal of my own."

Dael chuckles. When they return inside, someone brings out a Vulcan lyre.

She's surprised when Spock takes it after a while and turns out to be the best player of them all. He plays some pieces she'd never heard, rare compositions of a pre-reform artist, he claims, and the other Vulcans are eager to listen and record, trying to reproduce the music until the middle of the night. 

Despite all the Vulcan historical data that had been stored elsewhere, nobody had been prepared to lose the whole planet, so most of their manuscripts, art and conserved videos are irrevocably gone. Every Vulcan does his best to conserve the last shreds of their history, an inspiring attitude. She says so to Spock later when they board for their next part of the trip.

"The downside is that Vulcans have never been more conservative in many regards," Spock replies as they sit down at the control console. "And life does not favor the inflexible." 

"Is that another reason why you prefer to travel around instead of working in the new colony?" Dael asks.

"Not only," Spock says evasively, and initiates the launch sequence before transferring control of the ship to her.

A very polite way to stop her asking questions he doesn't want to answer. 

***

Not for the first time, Leonard is extremely glad that the _Enterprise_ – and Jim, particularly – has a strong supporter in Admiral Illyon at Ship Ops, who's looking out for them. The first contact mission she'd sent them on is just the right mixture of exciting and challenging, while still including some downtime. No telling how Jim would've behaved with too much or too little time on his hands. A more routine type of mission, star-charting or – worst of all – diplomatic milk runs would probably have driven the captain up the walls; a more demanding type, one of those missions where every minute is full of important decisions, might have gone wrong because during the last few weeks, Jim just hasn’t been the man he usually is. There's little of the easy-going, often joking guy who deeply trusts in his luck and abilities to pull off everything. This had been a no-win situation Jim hadn't be prepared for, and much like Aranka, the weight of perceived failure – even if it's nobody fault this time, just fate – weighs heavily on him.

Of course, Jim manages to keep it hidden quite well from the rest of the ship's crew, but the bridge team knows the whole story and has become touchingly protective of their captain. Even Uhura, who still likes to keep Jim on his toes, is gentle and careful when talking to him. A most disturbing sign, as Jim noted one week into the… new start, kind of. Or more of a reverse gear, maybe. Which is a lot harder than moving on into a new direction, like Chris and Dael have done. 

Speaking of Uhura, she's in the empty officers' mess hall when Leonard takes a coffee break. After she smiles invitingly at him, they sit down at a table together. Over the years, she's become a great friend, and in this situation, she's always been there for him to pour his heart out to. He's more thankful for that than he can put into words, which is okay for both of them.

"It's getting better, isn't it?" she says, not really asking. "Just this morning, he joked around with Sulu. Not like before, but hey, small steps."

"Yes," Leonard agrees. "He's still struggling, but I keep reminding him that this is only a set-back, not the end of all our plans."

"Have you heard anything from Dael?"

"Just a short vid message in which she sounded okay to me, which is more than I would've hoped for. I remember how unhappy Chris was with her extremely rare and weird messages during her first missions. She's changed a lot over the last year."

"I bet. She's still so young… she's got time to grow and still come back to you all to form a family," Uhura says.

Leonard looks at her on the strange note he detects in her voice. "Do you think about settling down to family life?"

She shrugs. "Well, not as long as it means reassignment off the ship, because frankly, I'm having too much fun here to get grounded planetside." 

"They're talking about having families with children aboard starships in the future."

"I know – they've been discussing that for almost six years already. Heaven knows when they'll ever make a decision. And even then, I don't think Jim would have that."

"Absolutely not. He'd rather resign."

"I guess whenever they allow it, they'll slowly remodel the ships and start with family-friendly captains and relatively peaceful missions, so Jim will be safe for a long time." Uhura sips from her coffee.

Leonard nods. 

"Well, need to go, need to teach some junior officers the new transfer protocols." She gets up. "You're going to the bridge?"

"Yes, I think I will."

"Do that, it's good for Jim. And what is good for the captain is good for us all," Uhura says wisely, then gives him a last smile before they depart in different directions. 

Leonard walks down the corridor to the direct turbolift to the bridge. The well-known way leaves him too much room to think.

All that talk of children reminds him of his marriage. For the longest time, Jocelyn hadn't wanted children, just coming around to the idea shortly before things went downhill, all by his fault. He'd never managed to fulfill for her the things he'd sworn to back then – but he's changed, he's become a good husband and hopefully a good partner to all of the tribe. And yes, he'd merrily go back to Earth anytime if it's with Jim and for a good reason, like raising their children. 

The lift comes and he enters, riding upwards. He doesn't know why, but whenever he'd thought about children of his own, it'd been a daughter, a pig-tailed, merrily bouncing little girl who would catch his hand and smile up at him... 

Shaking his head, Leonard tears himself out of his daydream when the turbolift stops, and walks onto the bridge of the _Enterprise_. Right now, his most important task is to take care of the captain during the day, and his partner at night. All else would have to wait.

***

There's a message on her PADD, short and still so telling. 

_Dael, lovely darling,_

_I badly miss you tonight. Care to send me a vid?_

_Kisses, Christopher_

It's rare, such an emotionally raw statement from him, and it brings a sense of urgency and concern.

"Could we have a real life transmission with Jupiter?" Dael asks Spock, but he has to negate that; they're too far outside the main communication grid for that. 

"I need to take care of something," she says and leaves him alone in ops.

In her quarters, she tries to think of something good to say in reply to that obvious plea for emotional support, but the more she fights for a perfect answer, the more she finds herself closing down. The cam, once she's in front of it, is like a looming snake, staring challenging at her. 

Overactive imagination is good for an artist, but not always helpful.

Her thinking is a little frantic by now… she needs something, something uplifting, not one of her strange vids she produces when she feels… like right now.

Numbly, she folds up on the chair, slinging her arms around her knees.

Better to send no answer at all than the wrong one.

***

"Tea or whiskey?" George asks when his man walks into their private suite, one hand struggling to loosen his tight tie, the other one tearing at the buttons of his silk shirt.

"Both, I think." With a frustrated groan, Iro manages to get rid of the material, stripping down to his shorts. " _Qovpatlh!_ " he curses in Klingon.

"Negotiation not going well?" 

"No. And damn, we need that space corridor but they're just asking for too much." Iro changes into more comfortable clothes, then joins George, sweeping his lips over his cheek in a kiss. "How about you attend these meetings next time, and I take the back office?"

"Sorry, I don't think you're qualified for that," George says and offers his master and sometimes very dependent husband the desired hard drink.

"I know, I'd only fuck up your precious order," Iro quips.

"Yes."

They each have their strengths; Iro, the extroverted creative thinker with an incredible sense for new technology and trends; George, the extremely organized and detailed-obsessed introvert in the background. In bed, they like to inhabit other roles, master and servant, but in their day-to-day lives – although the D/s sometimes seeps over a little – they're mainly a very functional team. Most corporations move out of the control of their founders at one point; that Iro still inhabits the position of chairman at IXOS is more a testimony to George's abilities than to Iro's rather laissez-faire attitude when it comes to the circus. 

A _flea circus_ , George sometimes thinks annoyedly, wishing they had more organized people among them. 

Speaking of those... "How did Chris fare?" he asks while preparing the tea.

Seated on the couch, lips on the glass, Iro offers a neutral hum. 

"That bad?" George asks with a light frown.

"He tries, but somehow... he's used to another kind of negotiation. We're not Starfleet – we're not some Intergalactic Health Army," Iro says, then adds after a beat, "And he doesn't have the bite." 

"Yet," George says. "I'm sure he had it in the past."

"Yes, maybe, but now..." Iro sighs. 

"Remember how he was when we first got to know him on the beach. It took a week before he even spoke a word to you," George says, gracefully delivering the tea tray by going down on one knee. 

Iro pours himself a cup. "I remember. I guess I expected too much after he showed up here sounding so – normal."

"You know what he told us his very first evening about the events of the past months. He didn't want to sail under false colors. And even if he didn't have these challenges, it would still be unreasonable to expect him to leave his decades in Starfleet behind overnight." George puts the tray on the nearby side table.

"I know. I _know_." Iro leans back on the couch. "I want him to stay here, I absolutely do. I love to talk to him and bounce ideas off him, and I'm not the only one, I've seen other people do the same. He has a great talent for asking the right questions, even when he's barely got a clue about the subject. And aside from that – it's my fault that he's here, and I'm not sure what he'd do otherwise, with everyone else in his strange cloverleaf being away. But he feels that it's not working as it should and he's not a man to sit that out for long. He'd rather leave by his own choice than become a burden to us."

George nods, wracking his brain for an idea. "May I...?" he asks for permission, reaching out for Iro's PADD. Once granted, he performs a brief search.

"The academy," he says, presenting the results to his master.

"The academy?" Iro asks, confused, only briefly eying the PADD's contents.

"IXOS academy," George clarifies. 

"Oh. Didn't we already close it down?"

"We thought about it, but it still exists."

"Under the control of the very annoying Hiro Yamamoto, who never listens to anyone." Iro puts the tea cup aside and pointedly looks at the glass. George readily gets up for a refill.

"But I think he'd listen to Christopher Pike, former 'fleet admiral," George says as he presents the glass much like the tea before, one knee on the ground. "I checked Chris' background – he was a recruiter before the _Narada_ incident. He mentored many successful young officers. I bet he'd love improving the academy."

"Hmm." Iro sips his drink, giving it a thought. "Yes," he says slowly at last. "This could be just the job for him to make the transition easier. I'll make the suggestion to Chris tomorrow over breakfast. We'll see what he says about it."

"Great. I'm personally interested in him staying. It's nice having another organized person in the group," George says a little ironically.

"Oh, you don't say..." Iro puts the drink aside, his gaze turning sharper, an aura of dominance emanating all of a sudden. The shift takes George's breath away, making him sink a little lower on the floor.

"I think you've said enough for tonight," Iro says coolly and opens the fly of his jeans. "Let's put that mouth to a better use instead."

George licks his lips, very willing to change the subject.

***

_Hello Jim, hello doc,_

_Time for an update, although I haven't heard a lot from any of you over the last three weeks. Hope my message reaches you in good health and all._

_Things are running a bit more smoothly now that I'm working on a second project. IXOS has an academy of its own, did you know that? Their engineering and command tracks are a little outdated, though, and we're going to overhaul the coursework and training based on the actual demands of their commercial fleet. I hope it’ll be a lot more fun than route planning, I can tell you, although I'm still asked for input there._

_I started exercising again. The circus has its own team of two personal trainers, and I'm working with a guy named Bjarne – he reminds me a bit of Ole, blond, tall and broad-shouldered, but he said he chose the name because he likes the sound of it, so he obviously isn't Scandinavian. At first he was overly cautious, as Vli – Doctor Vlian'i – seems to have given him a laundry list of all the million things I shouldn't do, but then he relaxed and rode me a little harder – not what you might think, just heavier weights. However, still no go for holosquash – ah well, as long as Dael isn't here, I don't mind as much._

_Sorry if I sound a little disjointed tonight, it's been a long day here. Love you both, and looking forward to a life sign from you –_

_Chris._

"We need to drop him a message," Leonard says after they listened to it, sitting side by side in front of the desk. He'd sent only a short, private text message to Chris after the first vid, hoping that Jim and he would compose a more official reply together… but Jim didn't get around to it, and it looks as if that was going to happen again. That silence between the two just isn't good.

Leonard sighs. "Don't wait for something he can't deliver, Jim. That won't work."

Jim shakes his head, then looks at Leonard. "I guess I still don't get why you're taking their reactions so easily."

If Jim needed it to be spelled out, so be it. "Been there, done the same, after the death of my father," Leonard says plainly. 

Jim freezes. "Damn. I'm sorry. I forgot." 

"No problem. But that's why I get them, to a degree. They needed to run... and I never regretted running, you know. It was the right decision. I needed to move on and _away_." Leonard reaches out, touching Jim's shoulder. "And then I met you and my run came to an end."

Jim puts his palm over Leonard's hand. "They ran away from us, that's how it feels to me, and I can't stop wondering what this will mean for the four of us. Whether they'll find someone else, someone _better_ for them."

The recurring theme is starting to grate on Leonard's nerves. More than five weeks into it, Jim is still unreasonably hung up on the subject, when the only thing really standing in the way of better communication between the four of them is _Jim_. 

"If you keep acting like an ass to them, they might well find someone better," he snaps. "This is like a self-fulfilling prophesy, you know. The longer you avoid talking to them and continue to ascribe them the intentions of your mother, the more you drive them away." 

Jim flinches. "I didn't –"

"Yes, you do," Leonard states with emphasis. "And in the end, it will make them behave just as you expect them to. Dael apologizes to you in every message she sends, for something she shouldn't even feel like having to apologize for in the first place. And Chris, everything he sends shows that while he's okay with his current situation, it's his second choice and what he really wants is Dael to come back and then start a second attempt at the farm thing together with us. How's that so hard to get, Jim? You want them to crawl in here on their knees, begging to be let in by you? They won't do that." 

A deep, tense silence falls over them, but Leonard is ready to sit that one out. He doesn't know what to do anymore; they've talked, they've burned off some of Jim's inner pain – and damn, that had been one of the hardest S&M sessions ever for Leonard – and they've talked some more, but it's fucking baby steps. 

"If… if that happened, and I drove them away," Jim says quietly before looking at him, "would you still stay with me?"

"Always, you idiot," Leonard says roughly, his voice breaking a little seeing Jim so vulnerable. He's really not used to being the more optimistic of the two of them, and it costs so much energy – he needs _his_ Jim to come back really badly. "Always. You're mine, I won't let you go."

"But Chris…"

"Chris is important to me, but he's not as important as you are. You're not just a lover, you're the goddamn center of my world and just saying _yes_ to that wedding thing should've clued you in that I'm in for the long haul," Leonard says exasperatedly. "For a while, I wasn't sure what Chris would do without Dael or me, but he's his old self again, and he can and would live on without us all. And frankly, I'm damn glad about that. He would've hated being dependent on us, and would've rather done something stupid than to live with that forever."

"Never saw it like that," Jim admits.

Leonard nods, keeping on hammering the point into his beloved one's stubborn skull. "I want staying with us to be his choice, not his one and only option. And the same for Dael – I want her return to us, but I want it to be her conscious choice, not the result of some unresolved problems from her troubled childhood." 

Sighing, Jim says, "And I... I keep pushing them away. Until they won't choose us."

"Yes, right now you are. But you can stop that at any time. Right now we can sit down and record a vid for Chris, record one for Dael – or for the two of them, maybe, and send it off and show that we still want them and accept them as full-grown partners in this. And that we're keeping up the spirit here until they're ready to return."

It's painful to watch Jim's inner struggle so plainly on his husband's face, but he's got to come the fuck around before their foursome is really in danger. 

"Fine, let's do it," Jim says at last, straightening in his chair.

"You really mean it?" Leonard can't help asking. "It won't work if you don't feel that way."

"Fake it till you make it, as the saying goes," Jim says, with some self-deprecating humor. "I'm not yet fully there, but I see your point and you're right, I'm the problem here. Not used to that position, I guess... it's always been easier to call Chris or you on your faults." He smiles crookedly. "Time to tackle that. Come on." He waves Leonard to join him in front of the cam. When they're ready, Leonard takes Jim's hand. 

"Thank you," he whispers, relieved, and puts a kiss on it.

"We'll be fine," Jim says, one of his trademark twinkles reappearing at last. "Love you, Bones." Then he starts the recording.

_Hello Christopher and Dael, beloved star wanderers,_

_sorry for having been MIA for so long. We... well, I needed to get some things sorted out, but thanks to Bones, I'm getting there_...

***

When Dael gives him the option of sex with her, Spock is truly shocked at first. He doesn't understand her motivation – when she rests against him, he cannot detect any sexual desire in her. But he also cannot find any intention of manipulation. Her offer is given much like she offers to make some tea, or let him have the bathroom first. It is so different from any other being he'd been with, he needs four days of meditation to solve the puzzle.

For Dael, there seems to exist a rather fluid axis along which friend, lover and partner reside. Especially friend and lover seem to have no clear dividing line. In a way, she is almost Deltan in her approach to inter-being connections. 

Of course he declines, which she takes in stride, making it clear that the offer is still open, but not mentioning it again. Another unusual behavior for a human woman, but he should keep in mind that Dael is not very typical in any way. 

He thinks of Uhura, who to him had always been the quintessential female aspect; a beautiful person inside and outside, knowledgeable, professional, spirited... his mind wanders, revisiting some memories from very long ago; they're incomplete, having suffered from his death and the _fal-tor-pan_ , but he remembers an exchange about the moon of Earth, and the smell of her perfume, and a joint session in the rec room, supporting her beautiful singing with his Vulcan harp. 

Somber feelings arise, are inspected and resolved. There is no logic in _crying over the past_ , as Doctor McCoy would've said. Who for all his overly emotional behavior at times had always been extremely good at keeping his most important inner feelings in check. So much so that despite knowing him for thirty years, Jim and he learned the true story of the death of Leonard's father only through Sybok.

As his mind wanders, logically, the somberness persists; indeed, it increases as he thinks of the people who are missing from this life. 

"Spock?" a gentle voice asks, and he looks up to find himself at the table in their small living room, with Dael standing over him. "You look tired."

"I am," he says, the confession so easy with her. She is not the type to fuss over him as the doctor was; her caring is quiet and careful, almost Vulcan. He can see why Christopher fell for her innate attractiveness that surpasses her challenging features, the tattoos that – while not connected to any trauma for him unlike for his former captain – are still a daily reminder of how much his personal failure to save Romulus has affected this timeline. 

"Let's go to bed," she says, and without resistance he follows her to his quarters where he lays down for rest. When she looks like she is going to climb in after him, he feels the need to point out, "I will not engage in any sexual –"

"It's not about that," Dael says. "It's just about not being alone." 

And in the dark, when she is next to him, he can hear her adding in a whisper, "I miss Jim so much tonight."

_I miss him too,_ he thinks, and turns to gently puts one palm on her stomach, easing her into sleep. 

In a day, they will land on Khal'kohachi.

***

When Iro had offered him the chance to help out with the revamp of IXOS academy, Chris had been delighted. It sounded just like a job he'd really want to spend his time on. Something Iro had lost less words on had been the current man in command of said academy, and the source of its current problems. 

Hiro Yamamoto has an impressive background, starting with eighteen years in Starfleet before moving on to commercial fleets, captaining anything from large cargo ships to entire fleets of twenty vessels. Having joined the IXOS academy staff at fifty-eight, he'd soon taken over from his predecessor and for the first years had done a good job of modernizing the coursework and infusing it with new life and new ideas drawn from his experiences. Then, however, he seems to have become a little too enamored with his position and fell out with several of the staff, which in consequence led to a drain of highly qualified teachers. Fifteen years later, the number of new recruits is on a constant decline, the academy's reputation damaged by Yamamoto's resistance to any criticism. 

Their first contact in a real-time video conference had been tense on both sides. Yamamoto had visibly resented being given an advisor from the highest level of the corporation, but couldn't outright decline to cooperate with Chris. 

Chris, on the other hand, had been unsettled by the man's resemblance to Nogura, both visually due to his age and Asian features as well as in the way that the man avoids direct answers and clear statements, making it hard to agree on any definite next moves. Knowing that having an academy of one's own would always lead to more consistent quality in a 'fleet, Chris is very willing to put in the work to reanimate the educational program, but getting Yamamoto on board with his plans would be the hardest part. 

But then, Chris had asked for a real job, not charity, and this is a challenge he should be up for more than route planning. It's been interesting learning about himself and realizing that Ship Operations would really have been the wrong position for him, as it included far too many aspects he didn't care for. One or a dozen ships in a maneuver – fine. A whole fleet on galactic levels – no thanks. 

He's close to wrapping up in his office corner for the night when a call comes in on short notice. It seems to be his day of reminiscence, crosses his mind as he stares at the caller's ID, accepting it after a second. 

"Admiral Illyon, what gives me the pleasure of your call?" he asks a little on the formal side, and earns a glare from his old friend over the cam. Behind her, he can see translucent walls and the 'fleet logo, all bathed in the typical illumination of a night shift – apparently she commed him directly from her office in Headquarters.

"Cut the crap, Chris," Mori says, waving her hand. "Nice to see you. How are you faring in your new career?"

"Fine," Chris says, then relents, "Good enough that I won't take my old job back," quietly admitting that it's not all perfect.

"I didn't call because of that, I swear." She yawns a little.

"Shouldn't you go home and sleep?" Chris says, checking that it has to be 0:30 in the morning at her location. 

"Hmm, waiting to get collected for a little weekend trip, but my date is running late." With one hand, Mori unbuttons the collar of her uniform. "So I thought, why not call retired Admiral Pike for a little chat between friends." She eyes him. "You're looking good, so I guess they don't run you too hard."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "On the one hand, it's one of the more laid-back positions I’ve had... on the other hand, civilian organizations are a real challenge for someone used to fixed time tables and strict hierarchies. The food here is great, though, best I ever had."

"Good for you. On my side, everything's normal." She leans back and slightly rotates her seat. 

"Aside from the dating, I guess," Chris says, remembering her preference for short-lived vacation flings over anything steady. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Guess," Mori says, grinning.

Mentally going through the persons they're both acquainted with, filtering them by her preferences – younger, hot, straight guys – he only finds one man who might fit. 

"Nicolai...?" he asks surprised.

Pointing her forefinger at the cam, she laughs. "Yup."

"Good choice," he says, fondly remembering his Romulan language instructor and part-time assistant. "Bright, sexy and reliable, can't ask for much more. Is he still working for you?"

"No, he thought it better to move to another department. The only drawback to this, I lost my most promising officer. We can't have it all, I guess." She smiles. "It's strange; onboard my ship, I really felt that being single was my best option. There's always someone to go to in the middle of the night if you need company for a drink or a chat, but on Earth, people go home to their families in the evening... and if you don't have one, you feel left out. Alone. I never felt alone on any ship."

The discussion of loneliness isn't exactly to Chris' preference, and so he only shrugs. Of course, that doesn't deter her from posing the next, feared question.

"So, how's your tribe doing?"

"They're far away. A certain ship even out of direct communication range," he states. 

"Well, it's the flagship," Mori says unapologetically. "Can't have her sit around in the backyard for nothing." She tilts her head. "So I guess it's still complicated, yes?"

"It's getting better. Some things need time to mend." Chris thinks of the vid he received from his men just two days ago, in which Jim finally sounded as if he might be reconciled to the way things developed for now. And Dael… at least she'd sent him a small note with some digital sketches, studies of Spock. He likes to think that as long as she's drawing, she's fine.

"Great. A lot of people here think a foursome can never work out; I'd like you to prove them wrong – oh, Nic!" She turns in her chair, waving to the background where Chris can make out a shadowy figure. "I’ve got Chris Pike on the line."

Nicolai Asimov steps into the light, joining Mori in front of the cam. He looks relaxed, dressed in what looks like outdoor clothes, a red-patterned timber jacket in his arms. "Good evening, sir. I trust you are well?"

"Good evening, Lieutenant," Chris says. "Yes, reasonably so – and you seem to be doing well too. Are you planning to take Mori into the wild for her vacation? That's absolutely unheard of. Whatever happened to the spa and sauna?"

"He swears I'll get the spa afterwards." Mori laughs. "And he better keeps his word, I can be a nasty girl." She twinkles, and Asimov smiles at her, looking not at all intimidated. 

"I see. You make a great couple," Chris says, smiling too. "I wish you all the best, have a great time and take care. Talk to you in a while."

"Thanks Chris, same to you! Talk to you soon. Earth off." Mori replies and switches off the communication.

_Snip._

In a fraction of a second, his universe leaps from a state of easy conversation with a friend into that utter state of _alone_ that he tries so hard to avoid, the room void and deadly silent.

He takes three deep breathes, emptying his mind. 

_On a ship, you're never really alone._

In a way, he's on a ship again, the circus functioning quite similarly. He just needs to go out that door and up to the evening buffet, there's always someone around.

He just needs…

Time ticks away as he keeps sitting in front of the dark screen, frozen in indecision.

In the end, he goes straight to bed. At least he's sensible enough not to send another needy message to Dael; he should've known that she could deal with that as little as he could. 

***

The first thing Dael thinks when she steps out onto the ground of Khal'kohachi is that it looks so much brighter than in her memories. There, the planet is eternally bathed in pale, nightlike tones, otherworldly and deadly silent. But there's nothing otherworldly right now as she looks over the small, sunlit stone houses that stretch along the road next to the small spaceport, a few short trees in a line, something like goats in a nearby field.

Shielding her eyes against the bright midday sun with one hand, she wonders what else she remembers wrongly. 

"What is the reason for your visit?" the customs guy, a human a little older than she, asks them as he takes their IDs. It's strange to see both the Federation sign as well as the Star Empire's emblem on his jacket; the rebuilt colony is a joint protectorate with a populace of about a hundred Federation members, mostly humans, and around fifty Romulans settling here. Some idealistic souls have restarted the experiment, claiming that the first extinction of the colony only showed that the two major forces of the Quadrant needed to work together more closely. Wishful, almost delusional thinking, in Dael's opinion.

"I spent a few years of my life here," Dael answers the man's question. "I came to visit the old places."

The young man eyes her critically. "I've been living here for four years and I'm sure we've never met."

"I lived here _before_."

"Oh." The man makes a small movement backwards. "I see." Suddenly busy processing their data, he quickly returns their ID cards. "You'll find it… changed, I guess."

"I hope so," Dael replies. Half her reason to come here is to substitute new, better pictures for the old memories. 

"Let us take a walk," Spock suggests, and it makes her move forward. There's curiosity and reluctance battling in her, and it slows her walk, especially as they're closing in on the former center of the small settlement. Clutching the small bag that she packed, with a change of clothes and some technical gadgets she might need, she stops at the next crossroad, looking left and right. The roads are still there, but the houses are all different, and maybe that's for the better. Only a few people pass them, with the usual gazes at her tattoos; she'd long contemplated covering them for her visit here, but then had decided against it. She returns on her own terms, and they are a part of her. A part of Khal's history on her face – a small, personal little history, but history nevertheless. 

Spock quietly and protectively hovers next to her, and she really appreciates this, especially as one of the passing people stops and turns. It's an old human, and he squints at them for a long moment, his gaze briefly running over Spock without recognition and then back to her. 

"You're one of the Gouldman children!" the man states all of a sudden, closing in and extending his hand. "Michael Gouldman's eldest, right?"

Dael reflexively takes a step back, curling one fist in defense. 

***

In the typical way that their best-laid plans tend to fail them, their joint long-distance talk doesn't work out as planned, with Dael out of direct communication and Jim out of order for medical reasons. However, that gives Leonard and Chris a moment of their own, the first in real-time chat since Chris' departure from Earth.

Leonard looks a little roughed up too, a long scratch on one cheek, but calms Chris' mind with a funny recounting of their adventurous downhill ride on a snow avalanche, although the background story – an ongoing controversy between Klingon and Federation forces about said snow planet – isn't actually very funny. 

"Jim's in sickbay, sleeping off his sedation. He should be well within a few hours. I'm actually glad this mission is keeping Jim busy and focused. That I'd ever say that..." The doc sighs a little. 

"Lesser men would be distracted by their personal problems, but Jim is the kind of guy who manages to set them aside. Just as a captain needs to," Chris says.

"Yes. Though everyone on the bridge crew supported us over the last weeks... can't ask for better friends and colleagues. They're family, really."

Chris nods. "I've rarely had that in the past, but here with IXOS, it's different."

"Well, I'd say that it's you who're different now, and that caused the changes in interaction."

"That's probably a part of it, but it's also not a military organization, and that makes some things easier. Even if I still need to acclimate." 

Leonard nods, then smiles. "And Jim and I are slowly getting back to having a sex life. Which is a good sign."

"Sex life? Oh, that mystical thing..." Chris half-jokes. 

The doc eyes him. "Oh? Don't tell me there's nobody interesting around."

"Contrary to what you seem to think, I can live without it for awhile," Chris says. "I haven't had sex since John and Eric came to visit, and I don't miss it." That last statement might stretch the truth a little, the lonely night from just a few evenings ago spoke volumes about what he misses… but it isn't the sex, really, more the company of his loved ones. 

Leonard tsks. "You feel good, don't you? Busy, engaged?"

"Sure."

"Working out lately?"

"Every other day – if you read my medfile, you'd know."

"How about getting that shirt off, then?"

Chris frowns. "Really, I don't need that kind of intervention –"

"Indulge me. Because I am used to a sex life again, and Jim is out of business for tonight." The doc leans back in his chair so that the cam catches the area between his legs. "You know what happens when a guy runs on adrenaline too much." He pats his groin.

"Doc..."

"Come on. Please. For me. Recently I thought of the great time we had after your wedding, when everything looked perfect. Before things went belly-up again." Leonard looks away from the cam's focus. "Sometimes it's hard to remember the good things, without thinking of everything else." There's such a strong, wistful note in the doc's voice all of a sudden, it makes Chris physically ache.

It manages to override the reservations he might've had and makes him willing to do what he could to brighten his lover's mood. And well, he's got a little more to show off than during their last time together.

"You want to me to get off the shirt?" Chris says, snipping open the top button. 

"Yes. Unbutton it slowly, oh man, you're looking good," the doc mutters as Chris keeps opening the buttons one by one, at last pulling the shirt's bottom out of his silk pants.

"Get up, show me your body." 

Dutifully, Chris gets up and pivots around while stripping off the shirt. He's amused by the doc's gaping.

"Damn, just a few weeks of regular training and you're looking as sexy as ever!"

"Dr. Vlian'i optimized some of my medication, eliminated the one that had the worst impact on muscle growth." Chris discards the shirt. On his screen, the doc's hand now covers a markedly larger bulge, fingertips nudging along the zipper.

"How about getting it out, doc? Give me a show too." Chris smirks, getting in the mood.

"Hmm, yes, let me lock that door really good first." The doc pushes some buttons, then leans back and opens his fly. The erection curves visibly upwards under his tight blue underwear. 

"Show me more," Chris demands.

Leonard wiggles a finger. "Quid pro quo."

"Fine." Chris opens his pants, then turns around to reveal his ass very, very slowly.

His watcher whistles audibly when they're gone. "Fuck, Chris… now I know what you meant back then, about not being at your best. Don't tell me that nobody's ogling that sexy ass of yours."

"I didn't say that nobody’s interested in me – it's just that I'm not particularly interested in anyone but the three of you, and you're all out of reach right now." Chris turns, lacing his thumbs into the waistline of his shorts. "Though I could definitely get back to enjoying our long distance calls and a few hot vids, if you’d like to share." He extends the elastic band a little, making the material dance. He's quite hard too, more than he would have expected at the start of their little session. 

"I think we might be able to deliver that, when things get a little calmer here again," the doc agrees huskily, one hand on his hard-on, one cradling his balls.

There's a small sound, and they both ignore it for a moment, before Chris, annoyed, notices that it's his comm. He glares at it. It's Iro; not exactly a man to not answer, but he'd survive for ten more minutes, the remaining length of their time in the call. Resolutely, he pushes the Ignore button. 

"Important?" the doc asks.

"Not as important as you," Chris says and runs his hand into his shorts, cupping his bulge. 

"Show me," the doc whispers. "Show me how hot you are for me."

Chuckling, Chris pushes the covering material down. His erection juts out proudly, signaling its unabashed interest in further proceedings.

Leonard licks his lips. "Give yourself a hand." 

"Quid pro quo," Chris repeats his lover's words back at him, and they both start jerking off. They're still partly doing it for the show, but also both are increasingly aware how the minutes are ticking off at the edges of their screens. When he feels his orgasm drawing close, Chris stands right in front of the cam, well aware that his noises and visuals are just as arousing as those of the doc's that reach his senses. Their breathing accelerates simultaneously as they reach the point of no return and Chris crosses it a fraction before his partner, moaning into the cam while he rides it out, his hands unable to keep from stroking and milking his jerking organ. 

"Oh damn… yes…" The sounds from the other side leave nothing to the imagination, the splash of whitish fluid on the lens only an added bonus. Once he can breathe again, Chris bends forward, facing the cam. 

"I want to lick that off you so hard, doc, lick your spunk all off your body and suck the last drops out of your cock."

The doc, boneless in his seat and barely able to raise his head, groans with one hand over his face, then chuckles and looks at him. "I'd love that, Chris. Ah, can't wait to see you again and get my hands all over you."

"I'll see whether I can send you some of our flight plans, maybe we could find a reasonable meeting place in this galaxy."

"I'd love that. _We_ would love that," Leonard adds as an afterthought.

"I would too. Maybe we could even have Dael join us."

"Maybe, yes." 

They're both aware that this part of their plan is unlikely to come true, unless Dael's journey is shorter than they both estimate.

Chris takes his shirt, covering himself a little against the growing chill of the room. "Time's almost over. It was wonderful, doc, thank you so much. I think I'll try again having that sex life you mentioned. "

The doc chuckles while wiping his hands on the pants. "I'm overdue for a change of uniform and a shower anyway," he explains at Chris' amused gaze. 

"Give my best to Jim, I wish him a speedy recovery. Looking forward to talking to both of you again soon."

"I'll tell him. My best to Iro and to your amazing new doctor, they should keep up the good work."

"They'll be delighted."

They're both sounding a little wistful now, in those last seconds when the reality of the space between them and the months they'll possibly spend apart settles again.

"Good bye, take care, I love you –" their last words collide and fizzle as the connection closes, terribly on time. 

The maudlin mood Chris has been expecting creeps up at him momentarily before his comm signals again. Not really motivated to answer it, he picks it up anyway, voice only. 

"Sorry that I tried reaching you when you were in a call," Iro says.

"No problem. Leonard gives his best to you, you should keep up the good work."

"So he was pleased with your state? You should tell him that I'm only driven by my egoism – I just want to keep the best people around me." Iro says, amused. 

"Isn't that every good leader's motivation?" Chris says, then asks flatly, "Why did you call?" Ten minutes later, he's dressed and back to business, the weird mood mostly gone and only the gentle aftermath of physical satiation paired with the heart-warming knowledge of both being in love and being loved remaining. 

***

They have a museum. It's only one small house of four rooms, but it has a collection of photographs, art objects and other things that help illustrate the history of Khal'kohachi. 

The old man, who turns out to be one of Dael's former neighbors, Timothy Blain – she can barely remember him, though she remembers the peculiar stone statuettes he carves – shows them around. 

There are a lot of photographs taken by and within the artists' commune, and also some that look like they were shared from private albums – including one showing T.A. and her sitting on a row of stones, heads close together. 

"Where did you get this?" she asks, dumbfounded. "Has T'Anihl been here?"

"No, but I live here," someone says behind her, and she turns to face… Roldar, T.A.'s elder brother. He's grown into a tall and broad-shouldered Romulan, no comparison to the slim boy she'd known. 

They gape at each other.

"Maddy…?" Roldar asks cautiously, his dark eyes resting on her facial tattoos.

"Not that girl anymore," Dael replies. "But yes – it's me."

He's struggling for words. "You look…"

"Different," she states. "You look a little stupid yourself, Ro."

That breaks the spell and he laughs, dragging her into a tight embrace which she answers heartily. 

"Ro! I'm glad to see you!"

"Damn, Maddy, T'An told me you were alive, but I never thought I'd see you again."

Dael withdraws from his arms. "I'm really not that name anymore. I'm Dael. That's what I call myself now."

He looks at her again, like wanting to make sure she isn't a ghost. "I guess there's a long story in that," he says at last. "How about sharing a meal with me? I built a new house just outside the city, most of it my studio. Tim, can I abduct her?"

Dael takes a step to the side, presenting the Vulcan. "Ro, I'm here with a friend. This is Selek."

The two men guardedly nod at each other. 

"S'haile, may I be allowed to invite her to dinner?" Ro asks extremely formally, placing Spock into the category of patriarchal Head of House. Dael shakes her head, taking the Romulan's arm.

"Selek, I'm going to have dinner at Ro's place," she states, making a point about her independence. She knows it's not exactly good style, but there's so much she wants to know from Ro, and none of it is for sharing with outsiders... anyone who hasn't lived here _before_.

"As you choose. Enjoy your time," Spock says gravely. "I will attend to other duties." 

***

Ro's atelier is beautiful, just like the one she's always dreamed of for herself, with high ceilings and windows, optimal light that could easily be turned down by adding shadows with the many available curtains and movable walls. On some outer walls, there are paintings placed which she assumes are his works, the usual grey and green base of Romulan artwork broken with dark red accents, but he doesn't say anything about them.

After showing her around, he leads her into a corner of the room and they take a seat next to each other on the Romulan version of couch ensemble he has, a lot less comfortable than the Earth variety. 

"Tell me about yourself," Ro says, keeping a hold of her hands. "Tell me about your life. It's still so strange to know you are alive, after having thought you to be dead."

"I know. I'm sorry for never having even tried to find out whether you still lived." Dael thinks for a moment, wondering how to relate her past years. "I… I live on Earth, usually. Or at least, I did before I went on this trip. I went to Starfleet Academy, but I left it before my finals. After Khal…" She stops, not surprised by his confused gaze. "It's a really long story. Let's just say, I'm on a quest to find out more about my past."

"You can't remember?" Ro asks confused.

"I remember most things that happened here, I think. But after Khal, when we were finally rescued we were transported to another planet where my father was separated from us and… it was not a good time." 

He looks at her face. "It's not… painted, is it?" he whispers. "Who did it?"

"He did."

"You father…? Oh, Ma – Dael," Ro quickly corrects himself. "Why did you choose that nickname? It was more of an insult when the other Romulan kids called you that."

"I knew, it meant alien – _outlandish_." Dael shrugs. "That's what I became to every human afterwards. It was only logical." 

"I never thought you were weird. If anything, I envied you."

Surprised, she frowns at him. "Envied?" 

"Yes. You were our father's favorite student, didn't you know? He’d rather spend three hours with you than one hour with any of us. We weren't half as gifted as you, and why should the prestigious Al'Retrrln spend his time with second-class artists, even if they were his sons?" There's a certain bitterness in Ro's voice.

Dael shakes her head. "I didn't know you saw it like that, and I don't think you're right. I’ve only seen a few paintings here, but you have developed an interesting style."

"Nothing like you could accomplish if you set your mind to it."

She looks away, unable to tell Ro the truth; that she lost almost all of her talent in the aftermath and that everything she paints today is nothing but flat colors on flat canvas, something only clueless viewers like her beloved Christopher would ever consider to be art. 

Something vibrates in Deal's bag, and she withdraws one hand to pick up her comm. It's Spock.

"An emergency has arisen," the Vulcan states. "I am forced to leave within the next hour. There is no need for you to accompany me for this journey; however, I cannot promise when I will return. It could take up to five days."

"Oh. I wouldn't know where to stay," Dael says. Next to her, Ro instantly signals at her. 

"You could stay with me," he whispers. "I've got enough space here."

She looks at him, undecided. In the past, they'd been friends mostly through T.A.; back then, their two year age gap had been enough that Ro spent more time with his own peers instead with his younger brother. 

"Of course, you are welcome to join me," Spock says on the comm. "We will return to Khal as soon as possible. You do not need to stay in the colony."

"Please, stay here," Ro whispers urgently. 

After a last moment of pondering, Dael nods. "Spock – I think I'll accept Ro's invitation and stay with him for these days. I'm sure I'll be able to visit all the places I came for and talk to him about the past. When you return, we should be able to leave right away."

"That is an acceptable solution," Spock says, although his expression is in tangible contrast to his words. "I need to remind you that the colony only has a short-distance communication center. It would be wise to send a message to the others via the _Nautilus_ that you will be out of communication range for the time being."

"I'll do that. Thanks." Dael looks at Ro. "Just let me compose this one, it's important."

"Sure." Ro gets up. "Do you want some tea? I've got _rhlliene_ here."

"Oh, I'd love that!" Dael says, finally smiling. She quickly writes her message, then joins Ro in the small kitchen next to the atelier.

"It smells so good," she says, inhaling the spice to which she's addicted enough that she's paid unholy amounts of credits for it on Earth. 

Ro offers her a cup. "He didn't want you to stay. Why not?"

"He's a friend of my partners, and promised to look after me."

Arching one brow on the plural, Ro still seems more bothered by another aspect. "So he's your guardian?" 

Dael shakes her head. "No, nothing like that. He offered to accompany me on this journey. I wouldn't be here without him. I couldn't have gone alone."

"Because you wouldn't have had a ship?"

"Because I don't trust myself when it comes to my past," she answers quietly. "Khal is the easy part. Another place will be less so." 

Ro nods. "Well," he says and fully turns towards her. "I could make us a meal."

"I'm not hungry, I'd rather go out and visit some of the…places." 

"Understandable. I usually only walk around, but if you want to see more of the planet, we could borrow a flighter."

"Yes, that would be great." She touches his arm. "Thank you, brother."

"It is my honor," Ro replies formally. 

***

Ta'Aen isn't home when Ro comes to borrow his transportation vehicle, but the news about the return of a former inhabitant of the colony who'd been thought to be dead spreads through the colony at light speed.

In the evening, he awaits them when they return the flighter. The two young people are bathed in the dirt of the red mountain, and it's _really_ her, with the sign of mourning permanently – so the rumor says – on her face.

He calls Ro in, keeping out of her sight. "Why is she here?" he asks him sharply.

"Just visiting," Ro says.

"Where is she staying?"

"With me. Only for a few days, until her travel companion returns."

"The Vulcan?" Ta'Aen asks darkly.

Ro frowns at him, but dutifully answers. "Yes." He nods towards the door. "She's waiting for me, we'll get cleaned up and then join the others in the big hall. There's music and dance tonight."

"Sure, go ahead," Ta'Aen says sarcastically, but the sentiment is lost on his nephew.

He looks through an unnoticed edge of the window, watching them leave. 

It is already happening, he can see it.

The old man sharply turns to his console. He cannot pull the files directly; nobody can know about his inquiry, lest Roldar get in trouble. But he needs, _needs_ more information on her, and why she returned.

From the first day that Al had enthusiastically told him about the Human family that had set foot on Khal, he hadn't trusted them, and he had been proven right in the end. _Like blood, like flesh_ , he mutters, _as the mother, so the daughter_ , and calls a trusted friend with connections to the Tal'Shiar.

***

They don't stay too long at the gathering; very few of the survivors are there, and it's not an instant, happy reunion with them. They look at her almost like a ghost, and she doesn't feel inclined to share a lot of details of the months after the planet was attacked. There are already rumors spreading about why and where she received the tattoos, and she only says that they were made by her father, nothing else. Let them invent something… nothing would come close to the truth.

She's glad when they leave for Ro's house.

"Tell me about your partners," he asks her as they sit outside of the door on the steps in the dark, like in old times. 

Without hesitation she takes a PADD out of her bag that has on it some of the cherished foursome shots they had taken during the _Enterprise_ men's first visit to Earth.

"This is Christopher, my main partner," she says, pointing at the man she misses the most. She still can't bring herself to use the word _husband_ ; while it might be universally understood, it's also much too limited in its definition and people's interpretations.

"He's quite old," Ro says carefully.

Dael looks at the shot, shrugging. Their age difference had never really been a relevant point to her, aside from others agonizing over her choice. One might rather accuse her of having a preference for older partners – even Jim sometimes feels much too young for her. "It never mattered to me."

Pointing at the couple, she adds, "These are Jim and Leonard."

Ro frowns as he examines the people, slowly saying, "I might be a bit out of the loop, but isn't that..."

"James T. Kirk. Captain of the Enterprise. Leonard is his husband and chief medical officer."

"You've got quite illustrious lovers," he says, his voice hard to interpret. 

"Yes, but I don't think of them in those terms. They are just Jim and Leonard to me." It hadn't always been true, but it is true by now.

She puts the PADD away. "How about you?"

"Me? I'm living here all alone." Ro waves his hand around. "All alone with my art, by choice. Never found another place where I can work so well."

It could be a good explanation… but it doesn't ring true.

"Why are you really here?" she asks.

He laughs darkly. "Your face may look Romulan, but your words are _Terranha_ direct." Leaning back on his elbows, he stretches out his legs.

"It's not like the Homeworld had been eagerly waiting for our return," he says. "Our father's reputation had not grown while we had been away; coming back as fugitives made the authorities suspicious. They asked far too many questions about the colony and our friends here."

"That's why T.A. lives in Federation space?" Dael asks.

"Part of it, yes." He yawns. "I'm not used to walking around so much. How about calling it a night?"

"I'm not yet tired, but you can show me where I might sleep."

"Well, it's either the couch or in my bed – it's large enough for two." Seeing her wondering gaze, he quickly adds, "Just for resting, I swear by _mnhei-sahe_. You are safe with me."

The surrealistic idea that after everything she's experienced in her life already, sharing a bed with Ro for a night might be considered unsafe makes her laugh. "No need to invoke your honor. I feel safe, thanks," she says then, not explaining her amusement. "But I'm really not tired yet, so I'll join you later, okay? I'd like to keep sitting here for a while longer."

"Fine by me." He gets to his feet. "The bedroom is right next to the studio."

Just like everything else; the studio really is the center of his life.

Dael thinks she prefers a smaller corner for her art over this way of living, when it means having Christopher and Jim in her life.

Silence settles over her as Ro retreats, his last noises dying down.

With the silence come the images, of where they have been today.

There's nothing left of their former house; apparently it had been dissembled to reuse the stones. Logical, given the limited sources of proper building materials here. 

For a while she'd gone over the area with a Starfleet tricorder she had borrowed from Spock. Back then, her father had cremated the dead – at least he'd told them so and she'd believed him, when she'd thought he was still _normal_. But until today, when she'd taken the time to look for the truth, she hadn't been sure. 

Now she was. No bones; no leftovers; their dust long gone with the wind. Nothing but something she never would've suspected to find, three little pins with comic heads that had belonged to Danny. Cute little Danny whom she'd loved for his adorable energy and love of the world, and disliked a little for stealing her father's focus from her… at least it had felt like that back then. Teenage woes… so distant, like another life.

And nothing at all of her mother. 

Ro had offered to move on to the cliffs right away, but she had declined. That's a place she must face alone, on a new day; irrationally hoping that nobody else had been there since then, that the small wooden cabin that they had built in their very first year, with wood her father had been able to import relatively cheaply as art supplies, might still be there. Snug against the cliffs, intended for watching nature and the bit of wildlife Khal has, it had been the perfect hiding place.

She doesn't even know what she hopes to find.

*** 

When Ro is back the next morning to borrow the flighter again, Ta'Aen stops him.

"Where do you want to go?"

"The east cliffs," Ro says.

Ta'Aen knows instantly what for. "There is no need," he says harshly. "Tell her that the cabin does not exist anymore. It burned to the ground."

Ro frowns. "What do you know about it? And why don't you speak to her yourself? You knew her for almost as long as I did."

"I don't see the need to, and you shouldn't either, and you know why."

Belligerently, Ro arches a brow. "Your opinion in this matter is noted," he says coolly. "Can we have the flighter anyway?"

Ta'Aen shrugs. "Do whatever pleases you, nephew."

Ro doesn't relay Ta'Aen's comment, but he makes sure that they approach the position of the cabin in a way to be able to verify its ongoing existence from a distance – and true to the old man's words, it's gone. It's hard to bear Maddy's… Dael's empty gaze as she folds up on a stone and sits in silence for almost two hours, staring at the spot on the high cliff walls where it should have been. The place had been cleaned of all traces aside of a flicker of black against the naturally red color, the leftovers of the flames that must have destroyed it.

"Why would anyone…" Dael had asked upon the sight, and he had no answer. 

"What did you hope to find?" he asks her on the way back.

"I don't know," is her answer, so quiet that even his Romulan hearing barely catches it.

After returning the flighter, taking care not to meet his uncle, Ro does his best to cheer her up, with some success, across the course of the evening. They swap Romulan and Human jokes, discuss some of the contemporary Romulan art schools and enjoy criticizing them to death, and have a – by his standards – opulent meal for which he brings out everything he's got in store, all those Homeworld delicacies they both love. 

Maddy… Dael might not be born a _Rihanha_ , but she could always pass as one.

Later, when they sit on the steps again, watching the night settling down with a bottle of Romulan ale between them, he realizes that he hasn't felt that good in a long time. There's a comfortable silence between them, the ease of old friends… and maybe the potential for something else…?

Gazing at her, he can see a smile on her face. 

"I'm glad that you're here," he says, catching her hand.

"Yes, I think it was a good idea to visit Khal," she agrees, squeezing his fingers.

"I live here all alone," he says. "There are other Romulans, but we don't have much contact. I wonder… did you ever think of staying here for longer?"

Her smile turns into a frown. 

"You could stay here, with me."

"I can't, Ro. I've got a life somewhere else."

"What kind of life is that, when everyone you care for is away from you?" he challenges her. "Where is your home, where are your children? Are these men truly waiting for your return, dreaming of you in the night, sending you messages of how much they miss you?"

Dael's expression freezes but he pushes on, "We could stay here together, work on our art, raise children together. I know children of our two species are still rare, we'd need medical help for that, but we could do it." He takes her hand. "You were once my little brother's mate, and I watched you from afar. Now his claim is gone, and I feel no longer the need to hold back –"

She pulls away. "You're not going to inherit me from him," she says flatly, choosing an old Romulan word that implies buying a slave-bride. 

"That's not what I mean," Ro says annoyed.

"But it feels like that." 

They don't talk much until they go to bed, sleeping further apart than the night before.

The next day they look around in town, and Dael talks to some more people from the past, but once again it feels superficial. Not sure what she’s really doing here anymore, she mostly settles down to wait for Spock's return. 

***

Despite it all, she knew they'd end here. And she wants this as much as he does, she thinks as she shivers under Ro's touch, despite the overheated bedroom. She has gone without sex for too long; sex, that gives her something nothing else gives her, a peculiar, unique feeling of connection with another person that nourishes her self.

That it is Ro is not really a surprise, although it's more the familiarity than his Romulan features… at least she likes to think that. She'd seduced her Romulan martial arts trainer onboard the Intelligence ship to find out whether that species means something special to her, and he had been a disappointment.

Ro wouldn't disappoint her.

"I still won't stay," she whispers, combining through his hair and running her fingertips over his pointed ears. 

He doesn't answer, only places strong kisses on her body for a long time, following the lines that are all bared to him now. 

"I would never have thought that the patterns of grief could be so beautiful on anyone," he says quietly at last, kneeling between her legs and running his hands over her groin. "You're like a work of art. Even the unfinished lines seem to belong to the whole."

"Unfinished lines?" She looks down on her body.

"Yes, here…" He runs his fingers over the lines at the very bottom, closest to her sex. "There are two ends missing from the traditional pattern." His fingers draw imaginary lines on her skin, left and right. "I could finish them." His fingers dip deeper, stimulating her. She moans, stretching her legs farther apart.

"It must have hurt a lot… they were made traditionally, right? I could finish those lines… put a needle to your skin, complete the pattern…" 

Drawing in a shocked breath, she wants to refuse this idea, but then his fingers glide deeper, controlling her with her own need. Her mouth falls close, all words stuck in her throat. 

"I've got all the equipment we'd need," he rasps, one thumb on her clit. 

"Let me do it." He suddenly leaves her, climbing from the bed. "It's like… perfecting it!"

"Ro…"

"Don't move," he says, and something clicks in Dael's head.

She doesn't move; doesn't move as he brings the needle, doesn't move as the black color gets stitched and burned into her skin, knows the line will be perfect because he's an artist, one of the best, and the lines will match all the lines she already has, a work of art, a memento for everything lost, and she doesn't move when he finally enters her, doesn't move because she's been here before and the lines will hold and there's no need for the art to answer the artist's demands, a piece of art's place is the pedestal of adoration and display, of passivity. 

The morning is grey in the high windows of the atelier; that's the Khal she knows and remembers. 

It was her choice, always.

A message from Spock is on her comm, notifying her of his impending arrival.

The tea from last night is cold, the taste of _rhlliene_ bitter in it.

"You're up early," Ro says as he joins her, naked and yawning. 

"I need to go," Dael says. "No need to take me to the city, I'll manage."

"Did I do anything wrong?" he asks, suddenly taking in her dressed state, the changed atmosphere. 

"No," she replies, and it's not a lie.

"I just wanted you to look even more perfect." He hesitates. "It's… my personal flaw, I guess. I want everything to be perfect. Everything I can control, at last."

He'll never get to control her. 

"Goodbye," she says and walks out of the house. The corn in the fields is high, dancing in the wind. It will rain soon. 

"Madeline," someone calls her harshly, and she ignores it.

"Madeline, daughter of Mary, you will stop." 

Dael rotates around, throwing her bag down and raising her arms in a defensive gesture as she recognizes the man.

***

He likes the look of apprehension on her face, almost as tangible as in the past. She'd always been a clever _Terranha_ , keeping away from him instinctively. 

"Do you fear an old man?" he says, deceptively calm. 

"You may be old, Ta'Aen, but you're still a fighter," she states. 

"Yes," he agrees. "My skill has never been the brush, only the art of war."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to leave Khal'kohachi."

"And why should I?"

"Because otherwise I might tell Ro who you really are?"

Dael frowns.

"Not just his childhood friend, but also a Federation spy." It's a suspicion without proof despite his research, but her denial rings flat.

"You're crazy." 

He circles around her, and she moves with him, her eyes tuned on him.

"Your Romulan is excellent, little Terran bird. Even better than in the past, when you sat in my brother's lap and enchanted him."

"He was my teacher. I never had anything with him. I never even modeled for him."

"He still wanted you. Did Ro tell you that after your presumed death, Al started painting you? As if anyone wants art with a girl with _round ears_ on it." Ta'Aen spits out onto the ground between them. "T'Anihl, Roldar, I don't know how you do it but you are a bad omen. Look at your face, Terran. You might try to be like us, but you're the dark mirror, bringing bad luck to everyone who's ever been touched by you."

He expects her to get angry, even attack him; he doesn't expect her to break into Human laughter and lower her arms.

"Maybe this would've hurt me years ago, _honorable_ _elder_ ," she says, the implied insult in her Romulan address perfectly modulated, "but not any longer. The downfall of this planet was Nero, nobody else. And he was a _Romulan_."

She shakes her head, then turns away from him and picks up her bag from the ground, presenting her back to him.

He still could kill her; he wouldn't even need his knife, he could strangle her with his bare hands, this tiny Human child. 

But everyone would know, and he's no longer as protected as he had been in the past. 

Over the years, he had erased everything that had remained of her family, hoping it would be enough to break the strange spell she seemed to have cast on the members of his House... only to find that she had erased even her _own name_ herself but instead of hiding in dishonor, she had returned as a dead, patterned ghost with as much power as in the past.

From above, rain starts to fall, and it washes out the scenery, turning her departing figure into a shadow that melts into the dark mountains.

She's bad luck, always has been, but to kill her would only turn her into a real ghost that would come back to haunt him. 

Not knowing what else to do, Ta'Aen shouts curses after her, damning her and her children and grandchildren in the name of the four elements, wishing fire to her house and the wind of loss in her life.

***

When she reaches the space port at last, she's thoroughly soaked.

"Are you well?" Spock asks, his concern tangible in the way he holds the towel, his inviting arms offering quiet support, should she need it. 

"Yes."

"Has your quest on Khal reached a satisfying conclusion?"

"Yes." She nods, burying her face in the towel as not to meet his probing gaze. "Yes, it has."

The old Romulan's curses still ring in her ears, so much more loudly than they'd actually resounded in the winds of Khol.

When the _Nautilus_ is in space, she retreats to her quarters. For eleven hours, she does nothing but rethink the events on her terms, in her colors; then she sleeps a while and afterward reads through the handful of messages her partners and friends had left for her while she was gone. She answers only the one from Jim and Leonard, then asks Spock whether he could set up a real time connection to Christopher. 

***

"Dael, it's so good talking to you in person at last." Christopher's relief is tangible over their connection, and Dael leans forward as if she could crawl through the line. Maybe that's why she avoided talking to him for so long, she thinks as she sharply feels both desire for him and frustration about them being apart rising inside of her. 

"I miss you," he says, and his words make it easier to speak her mind. 

"I miss you too, so much," Dael says, her throat constricted. He looks good – lively – and the old concern returns, that one day he wouldn't need her anymore, would leave her for all the wrong reasons. Emotional pain peaks for a fraction of a second, then goes extinct, calmness settling. 

They stare at each other for a while, not saying anything else, the comfortable silence they often engaged in even working over this connection, though also a bit stupid, considering the ticking-down timer. 

"How are you doing, will you reach your next destination soon?" Christopher asks, just as Dael says, "Tell me about your life." They both stop.

"You first," she says. 

"How are you doing?" he repeats, many unvoiced questions about Khal in his few words, layered with concern and an implicit offer of support.

"I'm doing okay. It was easier than I thought." She doesn't invite questions, instead preferring to talk to him in person when they're reunited. The images are still too fresh… the images she's painted herself. Truth is malleable like clay, if she wants it to be, but it needs to dry and get weathered a little to stay in its new form. 

He hums, accepting her words and the limit she draws. "I see. You're running late – shouldn't you have hit Galan VI by now?"

"We will in a few days. Spock wanted to visit some planets with small Vulcan colonies on the way, and I told him he should take his time. Guess I'm not as ready to face going back there as I thought I was. But I will be then," she adds, not wanting to make Christopher concerned.

He nods. "I believe you will be. Travel with Spock still going well?"

"Yes..." Dael ponders, then decides to be frank with him. "I often sleep next to Spock. I offered more, but he declined. I think in this universe, there's only one person he really wants." 

"Jim," Christopher says without hesitation.

Dael nods. "Deep inside, Spock is such a sad man. I know that my existence cheers him up a little – and next to him, my own problems seem smaller, less important."

Christopher sighs. "If it was just up to me, Spock would've become a part of our extended family already. But it's complicated with the doc. Well, when we're together again I'll do my best to reconcile him to Spock's existence. I'm tired of the old story about that mind-meld." 

"That would be good," Dael agrees, then moves on to another, funnier subject. "So I heard you have a sex life again?" she asks with a smile. 

"The doc's a damn tattletale," Christopher says and twinkles. "I wish it were true because in our chat last week he pushed me into a hot cam session with him and now my body remembers what sex actually feels like and wants to have more of it. I went as far as going on a date with Tavlar, one of the younger assistants around – an Andorian. Turned out that for Andorians, male-male activities are very ritualistic and frankly rather boring. I prefer being on top, but I like to have a choice about it, not follow some freak protocol on what's allowed and what's not."

"I guess we spoiled you. Sorry for that."

"Yeah, well, you definitely raised the bar." With a thoughtful gaze, he adds, "And I think he didn't like my body art either. Which is really a no-go."

"Are there no other interesting people?"

He shakes his head. "For just a fuck, I prefer someone anonymous, and when it comes to more, I'm picky, always have been, and John and Eric are away on some secret mission." Christopher shrugs. "I'll get over another dry spell. As long as I know you'll be back in a while." He halts, the expression on his face telling her that he hadn't actually wanted to divulge that, but she instantly reaches out. 

"I will be, Christopher. Promise." 

"We'll see," he says, more restrained. "For now, think of yourself and visit those places you need to face. I'll be here; I won't run away for a while, not when Iro keeps buttering me up with new interesting things to play with."

"It's good to know you're busy and having fun," Dael says, one eye on the countdown in the lower right corner. Christopher follows her gaze, nodding over the connection. "Time's up soon."

Dael sighs. "Love you, Christopher. It's been wonderful talking to you. I wish I'd done it more often during the last few weeks."

"Never too late to learn, for any of us," he answers with a smile and runs his fingertips over the cam's eye. "Love you too, darling. Take care of yourself and Spock."

"I will. All my best to Iro, unbeknownst, and everyone you talk to that I know."

"Do that yourself, sweetheart, they’re all waiting for messages from you," Christopher says a little sternly. She smiles over that hint of _commanding officer_ that's still so close to the surface.

"I'll try. Talk to you soon!" They share a last virtual kiss, then the connection closes.

Inclined to follow Christopher's implicit order, she stays seated in front of the cam and after a moment of recollection, starts a vid. 

_Hello Arissa,_

_Dael here. I'm sorry for not having sent a message in far too long. It's so easy to push the people you leave behind out of your mind when flying away into space – because once you think of them, you realize just how much you miss them... and now I miss you_...

***

The talk with Dael leaves a smile on Chris' face. It seems her stay on Khal had gone well without her being challenged by some aspects. His good mood makes him easy-going and almost flirty when he joins the circus later.

"Some good news?" Iro asks him when they bump into each other at the bar, Chris on the hunt for one of the incredibly tasty alcohol-free cocktails the female Orion bartender delivers. Even to Chris rather impartial eyes, Ona is a beautiful and luscious woman and could probably make a fortune in another bar with both her looks and her mixing skills, but she seems to be more content with her steady job in the circus, offering a deep smile with every drink and a supportive ear or clap on the shoulder to everyone who needs it. 

_Not just a bartender, also a morale officer_ , as the Rigellian assistant has put it once, who then went on to admit to Chris that he would've have loved to date Ona but that the woman is more on the lesbian side and in a poly group around Dr. Vlian'i. 

"Chris?" Iro repeats questioningly.

"Oh? Sorry, yes, I just had a vid call with Dael." Chris smiles.

"I see. No surprise then that you look positively beaming." Iro takes his own glass, waiting with Chris for the cocktail. 

At the far end of the room, there sits an old human male that Chris hadn't seen before. "Does he belong to us?" he asks Iro as they walk away from the bar.

"No, he's a private patient of Vli."

"Ah, I thought you hired her exclusively for the circus."

Iro smiles. "Oh, no. There's no way I'd keep her from her actual vocation."

On Chris' questioning gaze, Iro elaborates, "She's one of the best brain specialists on this side of the quadrant,"

Feeling a little dumb, Chris gapes. "And I had been wondering about the incredible quality and technological level of her equipment, on par with Starfleet Medical. Guess I'm really lucky to be here, in case anything goes wrong."

Iro looks at him strangely, then puts his hand on Chris' shoulder. "We are the lucky ones to have you here," he says, a little too seriously. 

One day, when he feels like he has really on delivered the promise that his background and experiences offers, Chris might believe that.

***

She covers her face on Galan VI, hiding every line. 

It's interesting to learn that no matter what happened on Khal'kohachi, she always felt and still feels essentially safe there.

Galan VI, despite her having only the barest memories of the place, all images vague and nondescript, she despises with every step she makes on its dirty surface, an emotional reaction from so deep down in her body that it's like it is encoded in her genes, every cell of her body rising in defense.

They'd landed here a day ago and talked to some officials, but everyone claims that the data of the _White Year_ , as the year of the fugitive camp is called due to the Galan calendar that assigns colors to dates, had been destroyed in an archive failure, so any search for information from that year would be pointless.

It's soon obvious that this is a lie. The planet had always been poor and ridden with violence; only in the last year had they taken a turn towards a more civil society, and reminding the public in the Federation of their dark past could cost them support and sympathies. Nobody has an interest into giving anyone access to data with which the planet's fragile reputation could be damaged.

"Let us return to the ship and use our own computer facilities," Spock suggests after four hours of fruitless discussions, and it's like a weight being lifted from Dael's chest when they enter the _Nautilus,_ getting out of the dirt that seems to cover everything. 

***

"Hey, Chris!" someone calls after him when he get out of a meeting that has left him once again close to reeling with the amount of new information he should get acquainted with, like, _yesterday_. 

It might explain why having a PADD pushed in his face with a large publicity shot of Esteban receiving the Medal of Valor has such an instant, strong effect on him. Within seconds, all walls are up, the whole world around him drained of colors and flat. Almost interesting – it's been a while since that happened.

It doesn't make the picture a lot easier to bear… because now that he looks at it again, he finds Jim right behind Esteban.

There's the old, familiar touch of betrayal whenever these two are in any contact. Of course it's stupid, they are in the same organization at the same level, they are bound to interact once in a while.

But still…

"Isn't that one of your former colleagues?" Doreen asks, the woman from the financial department who'd recently received her deep space flight license and who regularly follows some public Starfleet news channels.

"Not really," Chris says flatly.

"I was sure I read his name in your bio. In any case, I forwarded the article to you," Doreen says. "See you later." She rushes on at her usual quick pace.

_You could have told me_ , he writes in a message to the doc much later that night, after he's deleted and shredded every byte of that mail.

_Well_ , the doc writes back, _would it have hurt any less if you had known in advance? It was my fault, I talked Jim into keeping quiet about it, hoping you'd never find out._

And…

_See, that's why I was never a fan of sweeping it under the carpet. You decided to let it rest, for whatever reason. Now you've got to live with the result._

Sometimes, Chris really wishes the doc would hold back just a little with his opinions.

He stares at the words.

What would the alternatives have looked like? Trying to launch his own little revenge campaign against Esteban, although the man had been cleared from involvement in the actions against Chris?

It's not like Chris doesn't have moments in which he thinks that learning of Esteban's premature death on some away mission would not exactly _hurt_ him, although that's really very… immature.

And to go any farther back, into the what-ifs, the what if there hadn't been Nero, what if there hadn't been the Borg project… what if he'd never met Dael…

Maybe he would've been content with the long-distance relationship with the _Enterprise_ men… maybe not. Maybe he would've been able to find a new purpose within Starfleet, spend the rest of his life in that organization. Maybe not.

Maybe, maybe.

He eyes his PADD, full of all the things he needs to learn. He actually likes it here, likes the very different and much more open atmosphere, but he just hasn't found his place yet, hasn't yet gained a solid foothold in _any_ subject. Even this academy thing is hard, dragging on due to some serious blocking from the other side. And maybe his own, too.

Deciding that this day had been challenging enough, he helps himself to a full glass of whiskey and one of the few sleep meds that can go with it – he's got quite a collection of medication here, a daily reminder of _everything_ – and goes to bed, meditating an hour before falling asleep.

_I'm sorry_ , the doc writes in the middle of the night.

_Don't say what you don't mean_ , Chris replies the next morning. __

_I mean it. Going to make it up to you, promise. Love you – Leonard._

_Love you too,_ Chris writes, then sets delivery for all new messages from the _Enterprise_ to be delayed until evening for today.

***

It has taken Spock many hours to gather this information from the computers on Galan VI, long enough that Dael has fallen asleep while watching him work. 

The original check-in data was truly badly processed, the restoration a delicate art. Now, however, he has retrieved the complete file.

_Siblings, Human, F (15), M (13)_  
 _F: full upper body and facial tattoos, Romulan style_  
 _M: facial tattoos, Romulan style_  
 _malnourished_  
 _signs of physical abuse_

He scrolls two lines down and stops sharply.

_Scan result: pregnant, W7_

His eyes stray to the young woman who lies on his meditation bench, curled under the blanket he'd spread over her.

Returning to the screen, he ponders the implications for one point three minutes… then he reaches out and removes the scan result. 

"Did you find anything?" Dael asks when she wakes up ten minutes later, a yawn still on her lips when she joins him at the console.

"Yes, my search was successful – these are the original check-in results of your brother and yourself." Spock points at the text entry, noticing how intensely she reads it. 

She nods slowly, at last. "Doesn't tell us anything, does it?" she mutters, but there's a flicker of relief.

"No," Spock agrees.

***

The making-up action comes a lot quicker than expected, as the doc calls him for a twosome real-time chat just two days later.

"Just how many favors did this cost you?" Chris asks.

"Too many," Leonard admits. "But I really feel bad about my reply."

"Over and done," Chris says and means it. "Shoved it where the sun doesn't shine, so please, just don't ever remind me of it."

"Okay…" Leonard drawls, and visibly gathers his words.

Straightening a little in his chair, Chris wonders what will come up now. 

"I actually wanted to call you this week anyway, because I've organized something for you."

Chris frowns. "Organized?"

"Yeah. Would you be – up for a game?" Leonard asks. "And before you ask, Jim knows what I've planned, and while he doesn't care for details, it's not going to be a secret between us."

Chris frowns in hesitation. The last time they'd done such a long-distance game, it had backfired in a way that had endangered their whole relationship. 

"I just thought you might be underfucked. Also, it's our anniversary."

"Of what?"

"When I first tied you up and striped your ass. Before you met Dael."

"Oh." Chris shakes his head. "My sense of time is really wacky now, I never really know how much time has passed. So, what do you have in mind?" He's surprisingly touched by the doc remembering that particular date so well.

"I've arranged a meeting with a guy named White Dragon. You may have heard of him before. "

"Hmmm, the bondage master?"

"Bondage and more," Leonard says, a smile on his lips. "He's currently on Io, and so I thought… well, here's the deal. I sent him instructions, which he'll follow as he sees fit. You've got the choice. Either you don't go – obviously nothing will happen. You go and have your collar in hand – this means you want to talk to him beforehand. Or you go with the collar round your neck, then you'll walk right into the game. You will have the chance to stop it; he's not playing without you having a safeguard of some kind. I’ll send you the address – I've made a date for tomorrow night."

"Doc…" Chris nervously moves on his seat. While the general idea sounds unexpectedly exciting, the memories of their last game of this kind are raising quite a fear of repetition.

"There won't be any recordings, and we don't even have to speak about it if you don't want to. Though of course I'd love to learn whether you liked it." Leonard's eyes jump to where the time counter must be on his screen. "Need to sign off. You've got a day to decide, and any decision will be fine with me. Love you, Chris. Happy anniversary."

Without giving him a chance for a sensible reply, the doc signs off.

***

After stewing in his own moody thoughts for half a day, torn between arousal and concern, Chris sends Jim a note. The reply comes swiftly.

_Dear Chris,_

_I know about his plans, and I'm really fine with it. No need to share details. Enjoy the ride._

_Jim._

That decides it for him.

***

It is… _unfortunate_ , Spock terms it silently, that the data of the mortuary, as they find out at last, had not been entered into any database at all. Instead, they now stand in the midst of long rows of paper files in the dusty cellar of the building. At least the filing had been done in Federation Standard, which renders translation devices unnecessary.

Despite the amount of material, the registrar is both helpful and knowledgeable, easily finding his way through the cabinets and opening a certain drawer.

"We had several unidentified dead human males during that month. Do you know the cause of death? That would make it easier, as we differentiated between natural and unnatural causes."

"Unnatural?"

"Death by violence."

"I…" Dael looks in Spock's direction without focus. "Yes, I assume it was violent."

The registrar pulls out four folders. "Give these a try. If you don't find him in them, we can always look at the others."

Spock can see her reach out and then hesitate, her fingers lingering on the outer cover for longer than necessary. 

"May I help you?" he offers, but she shakes her head.

Opening the first report, she starts reading intensely. 

When she freezes, Spock knows that this time she would need to face the truth, with whatever consequences.

***

Chris visits the White Dragon on the other moon, and returns to his suite on Callisto with a well-used mouth, a raw ass, and the marks of canes and ropes all over his body. Not that he's complaining – but despite his arousal, it had been in some ways a superficial, technical session. Having someone else tying him up just doesn't have a fraction of the effect it has when the doc does it to him, and while he might relate some details that he'd found inspirational, he'd rather take his self-taught lover as his top than a professional bondage master, good as the man had been.

Thinking about the best reply to this anniversary gift, Chris goes shopping in the lower levels of the station, then makes a recording for the doc a day later. 

He breaks open the package of his new toy, which resembles the Monster, that truly huge plug with which his lover had literally driven him to tears last time. After making sure that the cam has the right position for the shoot, he walks to the chair on whose seat the self-lubricating plug stands in its full, intimidating size. He gets into position next to it, his face to the cam.

"Hello doc. I collected your gift yesterday evening… as you can see, it had quite an effect on me." Chris turns a little, showing off the by now colorful bruises on his naked body. "It was okay – he had some cool ideas up his sleeves that I'd like to share with you when you're back. But what I really learned was that I want only you doing these things to me. I want you to be nasty and rough and the bastard who knows exactly how far he can push me without breaking me. I want you to be the one guy who's allowed to take my body apart and then fix all the damage with his medical tools afterwards. Yeah, well." Chris briefly looks away from the cam, feeling his face heating up a little. He half turns towards the chair, pointing at the plug.

"Apparently you really want me to train with the monster, something I didn't quite understand until White Dragon beat the order into my skin to make sure I would remember it when I got home. Well, I do. Frankly, I hate this thing so much I left it back on Earth, but I bought a new one today. I've been doing anal play for most of my life, but there was something like a maximal size of toys I grew accustomed to, where I felt that it was the limit and I couldn't really stretch my hole any farther. When you forced me down on that plug, it was really hard, but it also showed me that I could do it, if I really wanted to. So you're right, and I'll start training today… and you can watch the first day."

Chris moves into position, standing above the head of the plug facing the back of the chair, taking a hold on it. Then he carefully places his rear entry above the top of the Monster.

"I've prepped myself, played with my medium-sized plug for half an hour, so I feel already wide and slick," he says, his head automatically tilting back as he edges down onto the plug, easing the first few centimeters in. "Fuck, the monster is just incredibly big, and I'm a little raw from yesterday, doubt that I'll get very far today, but I wanted to show you that I’ll try, I really will, doc." He moans as he sinks deeper, using his body's weight to pull him onto the plug. It's a miracle to him how it ever fit into him, but they'd been there once and they'll be there again. 

Using the back of the chair for stabilization and weight distribution, his legs don't tire out as fast while he slowly moves down and up on the plug, trying to go a little father on every push down. It's soon fairly painful and maybe another guy would stop here, but in Chris' head, the fact that the doc wants to see him fucking himself on the plug, getting it all in, is all the arousing fantasy he needs to push himself through the pain. 

When about half the monster is inside of him, Chris is at the end of his endurance, and still unwilling to give up. His hands tightly clawed around the back of the chair, he makes an effort for another centimeter but breaks down at last, bending forward with a deep, painful whine that just doesn't stop anymore, his body signaling the absolute stop zone. He slowly stands up, removing himself from the intruder. His muscles tremble and there're some stray tears his eyes exuded from sheer exhaustion. Chris chuckles for a second when he considers telling Bjarne tomorrow just why he's feeling so sore.

_Got whipped, fucked, and hung out to dry, and when that wasn't enough, I fucked myself in front of a cam until I cried._

_And why, yes, I really liked it._

And worst of all, his fitness trainer probably wouldn't be surprised.

"That's it for tonight, I'm sorry, doc, but I'll get there, I promise. Love you. Take care, see you soon." He walks over to the cam, putting a kiss on the lens, then switches off the recording. 

When he sends it off, he adds as text note:

_P.S. Of course Jim can watch it, if he wants too… but I still hope he's doesn't. I know, I'm being weird here._

The doc soon writes back. 

_He looked over my shoulder for a few seconds, then turned all red and took flight. So rest assured, he's as little interested into seeing you like this as you are interested in letting him see you._

_P.S. This is super-fucking-hot. Feel free to record every one of your training sessions, that's even better than having to sit through them all in person._

_…Asshole…_ Chris writes back, smiling as he sends it. 

_Love you too_ , the doc writes back, attaching a grotesque picture of some twinkling comic figure Chris doesn't recognize.

***

When Chris watches himself in the mirror on his next training day, he realizes that he won't have to tell Bjarne anything – despite having tried to treat the bruises himself with his small dermal regenerator, the remaining coloring all over his arms and legs and especially in areas that he couldn't reach shows prominently in his training outfit, which consists of a tee and shorts. For a moment he thinks about changing into something else, but he doesn't even own any long-sleeved training gear, and his few non-business clothes are too comfortable and loose and would get in the way during his workout. 

So he walks into his thankfully private session just the way he looks, not surprised when Bjarne's jaw drops on first sight. However, Chris is already well into his routine before the long expected question comes.

"So… you had some fun?" Bjarne asks, sounding a little too uninvolved.

"Yeah, well," Chris grunts; it's hard to speak when you try to bench-press a hundred kilograms. "The doc thought I needed some action, and arranged a date with a professional."

"Oh." Bjarne helps him place the bar on its rack for a break. "Was it good?"

Chris is still catching his breath. "Yes and no. Definitely enlightening. Learned that I'd rather play with the doc than with anyone else."

He accepts the weight for the next round, putting all his strength into the presses.

"I'm not into kinky stuff myself," Bjarne says. "But to each his own."

"It depends, for me," Chris forces out, sighing in relief when the weight is gone again for good. He's really quite sore all over, even two days after the game.

"At the moment, I'd prefer just have some sex in my life," he says as he sits up. "I'm definitely underfucked."

Bjarne makes a non-committal noise as they move to the next station, where Chris holds onto a stand and pulls one leg back against the weight on his ankle. 

"Can't imagine that you've got a shortage of interested people," Bjarne says after ten.

Chris shrugs while pushing his leg back one more time, ignoring his whining glutes. "Not interested in couples, and too strange for certain men. And not interested in a relationship either."

Bjarne helps him move the weight to the other leg. "What's your preference?" he asks after a long silence, when Chris is already done with the second side.

"Some years ago, I was mostly on top. But lately…" Chris runs the towel behind his neck, making sure to show off some of his by now really nice arm muscles. He hadn't actually thought about doing anything with Bjarne before – for all their friendly interaction, the man had always kept a professional distance, which was very welcome to Chris. But the way this ping-pong of questions and answers is developing, he's suddenly seeing the guy in a new light, and the facts – tall, blond, broad-shouldered – add up very nicely. Briefly sweeping his eyes down, the growing bulge between his trainer's well-toned legs is a nice cherry on top.

"What I really want right now is a hard fuck, with a cock up my ass," Chris slowly finishes his sentence, lowering his arms.

Bjarne licks his lips. "You'd like that?" 

"Yeah."

It's been a while since Chris had engaged in anything that resembles locker-room sex, but he hadn't quite forgotten that awesome feeling when within a second, two men agree on Sex Right Now, and all pretense of conversation is thrown aside to get right into messy kissing and groping any place where hands can go. Bjarne is even stronger than he looks, easily crowding Chris against one of the multigyms. Their bulges rub against each other for a moment, until Chris manages to get a hand between them and stroke the outline of Bjarne's hard cock. An astonishingly large one.

"Fuck, you're big," he breezes into the man's ear. "Let me see it." 

Bjarne takes a step back, giving Chris just enough room to pull down his tight pants and reveal a gorgeous exemplar of cock. 

"Damn. You ever worked as a porn star?" Chris asks impulsively, which Bjarne answers with a chuckle that sounds suspiciously like a yes. The meat in Chris' hand is surely twenty-five centimeter long and wide enough that Chris can barely close his hand around it. Somehow he doubts that it even fits into his mouth – but it's worth trying. He licks his lips,

"I'd love to go down on you," he says.

"Over here," Bjarne says and has enough brains to move them onto a mat that makes it a lot more comfortable for Chris' knees. Like feared, he hasn't been that unable to deep-throat anyone in ten years, but Bjarne doesn't seem to mind at all, mostly stroking his head and grunting appreciatingly.

"If you still want to get fucked, you better stop now," Bjarne mutters at last. "Damn, you're good at giving head."

"Usually I'm even better," Chris says as he can speak again. "But I haven't had such a gorgeous cock in quite a while." He gets up and moves his jaw around to ease the tension. 

"You want me to reciprocate?" Bjarne offers a blow-job of his own, putting his hand on Chris' by now prominent bulge.

"Frankly, I'd rather get the promised fuck," Chris admits. Whoever termed the expression of an "ass hungry for more" totally got it right, because his whole body feels like primed for cock – _this_ cock, balls deep, NOW.

Good thing he started training with the Monster plug already. 

"Fine by me," Bjarne says. "Let's move to that bench." They lose their few clothes on the way to it, interspersed with some groping and wet kissing. Chris is relieved when Bjarne notes his tattoo and piercings in passing with just a glance, taking them in a stride without comment.

"Sit down," Bjarne says. "Think you can hold onto the rack?"

"Sure," Chris says. It's comfortably within his reach, above his head.

"Fine." Bjarne pushes a button, moving the whole thing upwards until Chris' ass is at the right height for him. Then he conjures a condom and a tiny bottle of lube out of thin air. 

"Always prepared." Chris chuckles, nudging his own hard cock with one hand. 

"Yeah, well…" Bjarne says as he rolls the condom over his awesome cock. "Truth to be told, you might not have thought about having sex with me before today, but I sure thought about fucking you during the last few weeks." He leans over, spreading cool lube over the condom. 

"Why didn't you say anything?" Chris asks while raising one leg, giving Bjarne the space to push a first, slick finger into him. He groans, his head tilting back.

"Not my style to fuck around in my business…" They're both breathing harder, now that they're close to truly getting it on. Bjarne quickly moves from one to two, then three fingers. 

"Good enough," Chris mutters. "Come on, nail me to that bench."

"You're awesome." Bjarne pulls out his hand, then leans forward to push his tongue deep into Chris' mouth, hungrily tonsil-fucking him for a moment. "So hot," he adds, but before Chris can reply anything, he pushes both arms under Chris' knees. "Grab that the rack," Bjarne reminds him, and Chris barely gets a hold on it as Bjarne pushes in the glans.

"Damn you're thick…" Chris groans. 

"Too thick?" Bjarne asks, but without any inclination to stop gliding deeper.

"No, keep going, oh damn, yes…" Chris holds onto the rack for dear life as Bjarne pulls his legs up higher, drawing their bodies tightly together. The cock's length is really edging along Chris' limits, but just when he thinks it's too much, he can feel Bjarne's balls hitting his ass.

"Fuck, yes, fuck…" He's not very legible right now, but there aren't many words needed as Bjarne truly nails him into the bench, soon fucking him fast and hard and with everything the man got, which is a lot. The gym reflects their noises, the groans and whimpers and slaps of flesh against flesh, and it's just as mind-blowing as Chris needs it, a tough, intense ride that literally shoves any other thoughts out of his head for a moment.

The man's grip tightens around his legs for a second before he shifts a little, putting one of Chris' legs onto his shoulder to free one of his hands. It settles around Chris' slightly deflated cock – not much blood getting in there with such a big piece of meat in his ass – and strokes it almost harshly.

Chris whines as the intensity of the stimulation and the growing pain in his arms add up, which only makes Bjarne pump him harder. 

"Yes, so close, keep going, yes…" He might be sore for the next week but he doesn't care, he only wants more of this, more of this ride and this hand and – 

He erupts, coming all over his chest and Bjarne's hand, only barely noticing that the man quickly follows him with some last shoves deep into his ass. Unable to hold onto the rack for a second longer, Chris lets go, landing a little uncomfortably with his back on the bench. Between his legs, Bjarne rides out his orgasm for another minute until he carefully pulls out. 

"Damn, I'm done," the man groans. "Need to lie down for a second." He sinks down on the nearby mat. 

With his last energy, Chris gets up and joins Bjarne.

"That was fucking great," he says as he sinks down next to the man on the padded material. "Let me take care of this…" Nudging the condom off Bjarne's softening but still large erection, he leans forward and licks and sucks away every bit of come. 

"You're great too," Bjarne says when he pulls Chris up at last so that they can kiss. "Nobody ever cleaned me up like that."

"I love to taste _man_. Please tell me you're clean in the medical sense, so we can have messy sex without condoms next time." 

"You should've asked that before you ate all my spunk." Bjarne shakes his head. "But yeah, clean bill of health. You want to see it?"

"Trust you." They kiss again, deep and wet.

After a while, Bjarne says, "I'd really love to stay like this, but I think I've got another appointment soon."

"Yeah. Sorry for keeping you from working." Chris tries to move and sags back with a moan. "Fuck, that hurts. Now I'm really done."

Bjarne helps him up. "Are you going to tell your partners?" he inquires curiously as they move to the shower.

"Maybe not in detail, but yes, I probably will. Got a problem with that?"

"Fine by me." Bjarne starts the water. "As for the sex… well, I'd be game for more, but if you don't want to, it's fine too."

Chris looks at him incredulously. "You just gave me the best ride of the last several months. You've got to kidding if you think I don't want to come back for more."

Bjarne laughs out loud. "Good. I think we can find some more interesting positions that'll work all your muscles…" He runs his hands down Chris' crack, nudging one finger against the slightly sore ring muscle.

"I like that prospect," Chris says, his eyes falling closed as he leans into the touch. "I really do."

***

All through the next day, Chris is buzzing with sexual energy. He manages to make it through exactly one meeting before he needs to hit the restroom and give himself a hand, because his currently preferred slick silk pants are unable to hide the curve of his half-erect cock. This intervention manages to reduce the pressure and bring his mind back to the business, but the second he's free in the evening, the sexual buzz comes back full-fledged. It's not one of his training days, so he has no excuse to show up at the gym. However, Bjarne's time table shows that the last training would end at 2100, and there's nothing wrong with going to the gym and… having a chat.

Right, _chat_. Chris chuckles about himself as he grabs a pack of lube from the toy assortment that's offered in the restroom. He really likes working for IXOS.

The door to the gym is still closed when he arrives, still in his business outfit, which this time consists of black pants, a blue long-sleeved shirt, and a white vest. He's boringly consistent in his current dressing preferences, owing four interchangeable ensembles of this type. But at least it looks good, he thinks and eyes himself in a nearby mirror.

"Hey, Chris. It's not your training time, is it?" George's voice draws him out of his self-reflection.

"No, I'm not here for training," Chris says, facing the man. While he would've no qualms bringing up his actual intentions with Bjarne if it had been Iro, it's still different with his husband. George likes to keep a little bit apart from everyone else, much less approachable.

"Just need to ask him something."

"Right," George says seriously. "Good night." 

When Chris enters the gym, Bjarne is sitting on one of the benches, his elbows on his knees and a towel around his shoulders. He looks tired.

"Hello," he says, surprised when he sees Chris. "Didn't miss an appointment, did I?"

"Not at all," Chris says. He locks the door, then draws close.

Looking relieved, Bjarne rubs his face with the end of the towel before asking, "Anything I can do for you?"

"I guess I'm mostly here to ask whether I can do anything for you," Chris says bluntly. 

Bjarne looks up at him, suddenly picking up on the general idea. "Oh. I'm really a bit done tonight, didn't get out of these clothes the whole afternoon."

"I don't mind sweat. And you don't have to do anything, you can just keep sitting there and let me do the work."

"Well…" Bjarne seems still a little unsure, but when Chris gets off the vest and opens most buttons of his shirt, his gaze gets a little more interested.

"I guess I should be sorry for pushing myself on you like this," Chris says as he kneels down in front of the man. "But I couldn't think about much else but the last evening all day."

"Let me help you." Bjarne gets up and out of his knee-length leggins and underwear before putting the towel on the bench and sitting on it. 

Chris' guilty conscience recedes as he notices how heavy and stiff Bjarne's cock is even before he gets his hands on it. 

"I might have thought a lot about it too," Bjarne admits. "Which is pretty distracting over time." He cradles his balls with one hand for a moment. "If I stink too much, just tell me and we'll move it to the shower." 

Chris leans forward, placing his hands left and right on Bjarne's awesome inner leg muscles before running his face along the man's groin, inhaling deeply. "I think it smells great. Like a man who worked all day. Physical. Hot." He gently starts tonguing Bjarne's balls, sucking them into his mouth one by one.

"Oh, yes, that's good…" Bjarne leans back with both hands on the bench for support, his head tilting in obvious delight. 

There's nothing like good training, Chris thinks when he manages to swallow about half of the gorgeous cock this time around, and his own breathing problems are matched by Bjarne's shocked, astonished moans as he brings the trainer to a much faster than expected orgasm that fills his throat with a full load of come. Out of air he pulls back, and some of it flows down his lips and chin, leaving a messy, debauched trail down his expensive business shirt.

"Fuck… fuck…" Bjarne is still in the last throes of the ride, but the moment the man recovers enough to look at Chris, he rolls off the bench and brings Chris down to the ground, licking his face to get a taste of his own come. Then Bjarne opens Chris' pants with a well-practiced motion, getting out Chris' erection. 

"Going to suck you till you come too," are the last words Chris really hears, before the blood rushes in his ears from the great job Bjarne does on him. He's damn close to coming, all muscles tense and fingers tensely gripping the mat, when Bjarne suddenly stops.

"You want to come like this?"

With effort, Chris looks at his trainer. A hot picture, Bjarne's lips still touching his very needy cock. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, I think I could go for a second round, if you'd like a fuck tonight. Don't know how sore you might be from yesterday."

"A little, but not too much."

And so the evening ends with Chris getting nailed against the shower wall until he comes all over the bright, white tiles.

Which are a lot easier to clean than the bench and the mat and Chris' ruined clothes, but what the hell, it's worth it. 

***

For the second day in a row, Chris feels like he is running on sexual energy alone, but this evening he decides that he won't go to the gym. The last thing he'd want is to drive Bjarne away by claiming too much of the man's time. He has no clue what Bjarne does outside of being a fitness trainer and whether he's in a relationship, and he's got no rights on the man. Which is absolutely okay… but he surely would be able to go another round tonight.

Ah well, there's always the Monster waiting for him in the cabinet, and Chris gets it out and puts it on the table. It's a very funny picture next to his business PADDs and the bottle of red wine. However, he's truly a bit sore tonight and he had just decided that he'd practice for the doc's show some other night when the doorbell rings. It's Bjarne. 

For a second, Chris barely recognizes him; he'd never seen the trainer in normal clothes and the man cleans up nicely even in just jeans and tee. This body type just looks good in everything.

"Hello. I wondered whether you'd like to have a drink with me," Bjarne says. "That is, if you don't have anything else to do."

"A drink?" Chris asks a little surprised.

"At the bar, or… here, maybe." Bjarne shrugs.

"I have red wine and whiskey here, if that's alright by you," Chris says, opening the door wider.

"Sounds good," Bjarne says and enters.

"A glass of wine?" Chris asks and upon Bjarne's nod gets a second glass out of the small cabinet. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Bjarne looking around, watching the rotating images in the picture frame for a moment before ending with his gaze on the Monster.

"So that's why you can take it so easily." Bjarne waves at the plug. 

"I think I'm also quite motivated," Chris says and takes the glasses in his hands. "Cheers."

After a first sip, Chris puts down his glass again. "You really just came for a drink?"

"Well… or whatever else you'd like," Bjarne says. "We could play around with that thing."

"Not really," Chris says instantly. "This plug is personal and it wouldn't fit. Also, I just noticed that I'm really a bit sore, so I'd prefer something that leaves my ass out of business tonight."

"Guess we could come up with some alternatives." Bjarne puts away his own glass. They move closer together. Chris settles his hands on the trainer's well-formed ass before leaning forward into a kiss. Bjarne instantly opens up to him, drinking in his tongue. 

"You ever switch?" Chris whispers into Bjarne's ear when they come up for air a while later. 

"Sometimes." 

"Can't offer anything in your category, but if you want to…"

Bjarne grumbles and runs down one hand, squeezing Chris' growing erection through the fabric. "I think your cock is great. Great size. Great taste."

"Thank you."

They kiss again, tongues dueling. 

"Let's move this to the bed," Chris mutters, running his hands underneath Bjarne's shirt. They strip on the way, leaving a mess in their wake. Without talking about it, Chris ends on his back, Bjarne on top.

It's their first time on an actual bed, after having christened the gym and its shower already, and the feeling of being nicely crowded into the mattress by this muscular guy is an extreme turn-on for Chris. He arches against the other man, angling his legs to the sides to draw them closer together.

"Thought you don't want to get fucked tonight," Bjarne says, amused and a little breathless, as their already hard cocks press against each other. "Damn, you have quite an effect on me, I haven’t gotten turned on so fast for ages."

Chris doesn't answer, nips at Bjarne's throat with his teeth instead. While the man makes him really hot, it's very different from the doc, who pulls the most interesting switches in his head and makes him do and enjoy things he wouldn't even have dreamed of before. 

"Well, if you've got a stronger regen unit than my tiny regenerator, I'd be willing to have another go," Chris jokes, getting even hornier remembering the almost absurdly kinky weekend he'd spent in the doc's repeated, _special_ care.

Bjarne stops abruptly. "Really? I’ve never used one for fixing an ass."

"Works fine," Chris says. 

"We've got one in the gym for first aid."

Chris licks along Bjarne's throat. "I totally think we need aid here."

The comfortable weight leaves him as the man gets up. "Give me ten minutes," Bjarne says excitedly, and dresses quickly. 

"Sure," Chris says, pulling a blanket over his body to keep warm. It takes only eight until the trainer returns, true his word bringing a modern portable regen unit. There's even one of those probes that fit perfectly into the desired orifice, and while Chris still isn't able to eroticize the strange feeling, it is all for good cause... aka a long, intense fuck that leaves them both wiped. It's almost midnight by then, past Chris' usual bedtime, and he briefly falls asleep during the after-sex cuddle. 

When he jerks awake from the nap some minutes later, Bjarne yawns, rubs his face and says, "Guess I should leave now." 

Chris closes his eyes for a moment, gauging the situation and his emotions. It feels warm and comfortable to have someone with him, especially this guy who's easy-going and friendly and apparently doesn't want anything more than they have, scorchingly hot sex. Interestingly, it's also the first guy with which he likes to bottom quite that much without any dominance/submission vibes in the mix. Who knew vanilla sex could be that great?

"Stay the night, if you want," Chris says, opening his eyes. On Bjarne's frown, he adds, "No strings attached, and no toothbrush, but if you want so sleep here, that's fine by me. And if you're up for sex in the morning, that's fine by me too, your choice."

"Okay," Bjarne says after a moment, and stays.

The morning sex is fabulous, but it also leaves Chris limping a little when he gets to his first meeting.

"Had fun last night?" Iro asks, amused, when they stand next to each other at the coffee machine.

Suddenly remembering some of the strange encounters he'd had with Nogura in the past, Chris defensively replies, "Is this the boss or the friend asking?"

Iro's expression turns serious. "Your _boss_ doesn't care what his people do in their spare time as long as it doesn't endanger the company. And your _friend_ only wants you to be happy here, and would be glad to learn that you no longer spend every night just on your own."

"Okay." Chris digests it for a moment, before saying, "I'm fine and I'm a bit outfucked."

"That's bordering TMI, but congratulations." Iro chuckles and gives him his cup of fresh coffee. "Bjarne?"

"Yes."

"Impressive. He's been working for me for more than two years and I've never heard of him hooking up with anyone. I started to think he's asexual."

Chris chuckles. "Far from it, Iro, very, very far."

"Good. No need to share details. Carry on with the good work." Iro walks away, mingling with another newcomer. The meeting is easy and their interaction doesn't change one bit over the revelation.

Soon, everyone in the circus knows something's going on between Bjarne and Chris, and nobody cares beyond obviously being glad that the two most reclusive persons in the group finally found someone special. 

***

Despite enjoying his new-found sex life, Chris frequently thinks of his lovers... and especially of Dael, because she's very late in replying to his messages.

Ignoring the noises around him during the evening gathering, he is standing in a quiet corner composing a message to her when Iro interrupts him.

"This doesn't seem to be a good moment, but how are your dealings with Yamamoto proceeding?"

Chris sighs. "No, but since you're asking..." They move to a nearby, high bistro table. "He blocks just about every suggestion I make, and I... well, I block a lot of his too. It's a standstill."

"I'm not surprised. How about – you fly to Comoro II and visit IXOS academy and him in person?"

"That's quite a long distance," Chris says surprised. 

"You don't want to go?"

"I don't mind the flight, I'm just not sure it's worth the effort."

Iro shrugs. "The _Arrivo_ leaves tomorrow with a shipment of urgent goods. At top speed, you'll make it in two days. You won't have much time there, only four days before she launches again, but that should be enough for the two of you to either make the project fly or die." Iro takes a sip of his drink.

"And _die_ would mean closing the academy." 

"Yes. I'm tired of that problem." 

Chris has been in the circus for long enough by now to know that once Iro makes a final decision to liquidate a part of IXOS, he makes extremely short work of it; for the academy, this could well mean it's enjoying its last weeks. 

"I'll go," Chris says. 

"Good. I'll send Tavlar to collect you in two hours, he'll take you to the _Arrivo._ " Iro takes his glass and is about to turn, when he suddenly adds, "By the way, would you want to take him with you? I can't give you Bjarne, but..." 

Chris rolls his eyes. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm flattered that you care about my love life, but we aren't really compatible."

"I understand. Do you want another driver?"

"No, that's fine." Tavlar is an acceptable companion for a few hours, just not somebody Chris would want to bed again, especially not after having gotten a taste of Bjarne.

"Good. Good luck, keep us posted." Iro nods and leaves him.

"Going back to space again, Chris?" Ona asks when he returns his empty glass to the bar on his way out, something he only answers with a smile. "Good luck with your license!" she calls after him, leaving him slightly confused but unwilling to return to ask her about it.

Packing hastily, he just has time to drop a short note to his partners and then another one to his trainer before he's collected by the Andorian.

When he's delivered right to the bridge of the _Arrivo_ four hours later, it dawns on him that there's more to this trip than just getting to know Yamamoto.

***

"Congratulations on your first ten hours, _captain_ ," S'n says, clinking glasses with Chris. They're draped over two parallel chaiselounges – or as Caitians call it, _n'rschessn,_ in the captain's quarters, and Chris hasn't felt that accomplished in quite a while. 

From the first moment on, when the cat-like Caitian had leaped from her center seat on the bridge of the _Arrivo_ andstretched to her full length of two-and-a-half meters to offer her paw, Chris had liked S'n B'rl. Usually, captains don't like to share their position with anyone, but she'd been more than welcoming – in fact, after introducing her small crew of two, one engineer and one navigator, she'd practically shoved him right into the chair. His first job had been to launch the ship, and his palms had been wet when they'd finally made it out of the spaceport. After that, commanding the vessel got easier with every minute.

Much like when Jim had talked him into driving his own car again, S'n had supported him through his first real flight _since then_ , and he's extremely thankful.

"We could slow down and give you the next shift, or you could take over ops on the way back again."

"I'd love to take another shift right away," Chris says, surprising himself a little. He'd definitely tasted blood; sitting there and having space right in front of him had been intense, the leftover adrenaline together with the whiskey that now hits his stomach making him a little fuzzy in the head. 

"Fine. You're still welcome to take over the chair on the route back." S'n blinks, a sign of amusement. Half the day, they talked about space flight, exchanging stories. She asked him extensively questions about Starfleet, as a cousin of her is preparing his application to Starfleet Academy, and he learned a lot about the civilian aspects of spaceflight.

"I like the circus, but none of them have space in their blood," she says, rubbing her chest fur with slightly extended claws. " _Dirt crawlers_ , we call such people on Ferasa." 

Chris nods, relaxed, pouring himself another glass. "Yes, I've noticed that Caitians love space."

"Before we acquired space flight, jumping into in our deepest canyons was our favorite hobby." S'n laughs, a funny sound between a purr and a cough. "We've got adventure in our blood, and where you can find more of that than in space?"

"Though on a civilian vessel, you probably have a little less than in any planet's defense fleet."

"Oh, well," she blinks again, "you don't know every detail of the _Arrivo_ yet."

"You've got weaponry?"

"Not officially." S'n stretches her body. "But it's always good to be prepared." 

The second glass takes its toll; suddenly, Chris feels extremely tired. "I'm wiped; I think I should retire." He puts aside the class, sitting up. "It's going to be a long day, first commanding another shift, then meeting Yamamoto." His tension about that encounter must have shown, because S'n's ears perk up.

"You don't like Hiro'rss?" the Caitian asks. 

"I only know him from vid calls, but I'm trying to help ensure the further existence of the IXOS academy and he's not exactly been cooperative so far," Chris says, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Ah." S'n strokes her whiskers with her left. "I might be able to help with that. Hiro'rss and I have a long history."

"Indeed?" Chris eyes her; he can't quite imagine Yamamoto locking whatever limbs with the much taller and stronger woman, but maybe he's just indulging in too much dirty thinking, now that he's got a sex life again.

She purr-laughs, sitting up. "Disbelieving? I am flexible, in every regard." 

Chris blinks. Obviously, his idea had been in the right direction. "Okay."

"And I think you are very sexy too."

He chuckles, unable to remember ever having received such a direct come-on outside of a sex club. "If that's an offer, I'm flattered, but I've got to decline."

"Yes, I feared that already. Although I hope it's not because of my claws." 

"Not at all," he says with emphasis; her being Caitian isn't the point, although he usually leans towards human lovers. "But I'm mostly gay." 

"Surprise, surprise," S'n says, amused, gracefully leaping to her feet. "Then I will let you go in peace. Sleep well, we'll ring you up half an hour before your next shift."

"Thank you." He gets up and finds his way to his own bed.

***

The message is brief and neutrally worded, but Spock can detect the deep concern that must have been experienced by the writer.

_Dear Spock,_

_I know I should be used to longer silences from Dael, but she hasn't been in contact with any of us since Galan VI, and we are wondering if anything's wrong._

_In friendship, yours_

_Christopher_

  


Spock quickly answers, in a message to all three relationship partners.

_Dear friends,_

_Dael asked me to relate the message that she currently does not feel well, and therefore cannot communicate with you. She will contact you in a while._

_In whole, I consider our journey to be successful, but challenging moments were to be anticipated. I do not doubt that she will be able to deal with them in due time. Until then, I ask for your patience. I will keep you informed about our whereabouts and flight route._

_Do not concern yourself excessively. I personally see to her well-being, as if she were my own daughter._

_In eternal friendship – Spock._

  


It causes a strange pain in his chest when Jim Kirk is the first to reply, to his eyes only.

_Hello old friend,_

_Thanks for the quick answer, it definitely calms my mind._

_It's good to know she's with you._

_Yours, Jim_

  


_No, not mine_ , not in this timeline, Spock thinks darkly, and decides to embark on an urgent meditation in his quarters, passing the door to Dael's room on the way. It is closed, as always lately, and he finds he misses her nearness; his meditation bench is cool and lonely without her. 

He meditates on emotional dependency. It alleviates the problem for a while.

***

"Trust me," S'n B'rl had said before beaming him down.

Well, Chris trusts her in principle, but being delivered to what seems to be a lonely house on the top of a lonely hill in some mountain area of this planet definitely takes him by surprise. 

When she doesn't answer his call, he decides to walk in. The house resembles the cabin in the woods he'd once rented with Jim and the doc; rather small, but a very cozy nest.

In essence, a veritable _love shack_ , if he adds up the single queen-size bed and the food supplies for two and a bottle of champagne in the fridge.

"Hey, sweetheart, are you in there?" someone calls from outside, and Chris shakes his head, half amused, half annoyed by S'n's ingenious plan. He walks out of the house to face the academy's very surprised headmaster.

"Mr. Yamamoto?" Chris asks superfluously. They'd talked often enough over a cam to instantly recognize the man – of Asian descent and advanced age, rather short and stocky, white hair and a handlebar moustache, and intense black eyes that stare at him now. "Sorry, sir, it's just me."

At the sight of him, Yamamoto freezes for a moment – then breaks into a barking laugh that instantly shatters any resemblance to Nogura. "S'n! Dammit."

Chris feels himself relaxing. "Yes, I gather she thought to improve our communication a little by this plan."

Yamamoto checks his comm.

"I already tried to raise her, to no avail," Chris says.

"Yes...from what she just wrote to me, she has every intention of leaving us here for the night. And the _Arrivo_ 's beam power is the only escape route, unless we want to call in a helicopter from the local police and become the talk of the capital." Yamamoto puts the comm away, looking Chris over. "Well, I guess we should heed her advice and talk."

"Fine by me. I've got the sneaky suspicion that we started off on the wrong foot for all the wrong reasons." Chris draws closer, offering his hand. "Let's start over. I'm Chris Pike – Chris to you."

Yamamoto instantly mirrors his move, taking his hand with a strong grasp. "I'm Hiro Yamamoto, Hiro to my friends, _Hiro'rss_ to a certain captain – who seems to be quite a fan of yours after just two days, which doesn't happen very often."

Chris smiles. "I like her a lot too – from space addict to space addict." He examines Hiro's face upon this statement, trying to gauge whether the feeling of being grounded had anything to do with the man's strong resistance towards advice from outer or inner circles – but no, Hiro just chuckles again,, then points at the house.

"Let's go in and get the fireplace working, it's going to be a cool night soon."

 

Once the fire is going and the men prepared a dinner together – a local, very tasty bean-like dish, they sit down on opposite arm chairs in front of the fire, a bottle of whiskey between them.

During the cooking, they'd mostly chit-chatted, of past mountain trips and vacations, of living on Earth and in space, of some critical nights on forgotten planets and sharing the last rations with one's people. Their interactions so far have been absolutely easy-going; the private side of Hiro almost felt like having no connection at all to the official face of Yamamoto, and it really makes Chris wonder... 

Hiro pours them two drinks, giving one to Chris. "Let me guess, you wonder why everyone – including you, until this afternoon – thinks that I'm a stubborn asshole, when you and I are able to have such a good time here."

"Yes." Chris swirls the fine whiskey in his glass, stretching out his legs towards the fire. This turns out to be quite a spirituous trip, but there's still no easier way to connect to many people than sharing a drink. "From the first moment on, it's been clear that you hated me meddling with your affairs and blocked me accordingly. I can understand that, but it made things unusually hard. And worse, it endangers the further existence of the academy." 

"Don't I know," Hiro says darkly. "I've known about Iro's plans to close the place down for a few years. I guess the only reason he didn't do it yet is that it frequently escaped the radar of His Majesty."

On Chris' frown, he adds, "Well, that's how Iro behaves. His Majesty and The Queen, running their own little kingdom. They even have a court. You ever read history? Think Versailles, France, Louis Fourteenth. For how long have you been a part of the circus now, a few months? Wait till you've been dealing with him for _fifteen_ years."

Chris hadn't looked at the circus organization from that angle so far, but concedes that Hiro does have a point. 

"I bet he didn't tell you about his attempts to shorten the curriculum until it would've become little more than a three-month training? How he constantly reduced the budget? Or how he tried to merge the academy with another educational center, which drove half of our applicants away and towards other schools – especially the most promising of them?" 

"No, he didn't." Chris downs the whiskey, putting the glass aside. He isn't really surprised about Hiro's accusations; he knows that in most problematic relationships, including in business, it's a two-sided problem. "However, I researched your activities too, and it's clear that no matter what your problems with the IXOS uppers might be, you've also been in frequent conflict with the academy's instructors, who consequently left for good. And once word spread that you're almost impossible to work with, finding new, good instructors became quite hard."

Hiro flushes, his jawline tensing. The man empties his glass, then pours another one for himself and Chris.

"Yes..." the man relents after finishing his second drink. "I guess I've committed my share of bad decisions. From my side, I'm able to explain every conflict and resignation, but I admit that from the outside, they add up to a damaged reputation."

"A king butting heads with a king?" Chris asks slightly ironically as he takes his glass. 

Hiro barks a dark laugh. "Who do you think runs the commercial fleet?"

Being a little surprised by the thematic turn, Chris still instantly answers. "Danial Marquez." He frequently sits in the same meetings as that man.

"And what do you think of him?"

Chris flounders. "Well..." 

"He's only a placeholder. The man before him, Nuyen Ho, was really good, but after Iro had interfered a little too often with the man's authority, he left for good. The 'fleet is in trouble."

Chris thinks about his impressions from the last few months for a moment. "Iro doesn't actually care for the IXOS 'fleet," he says at last. "And he doesn't care about traveling in space, or the circus would do so much more often. He's invested in technological advances and scientific breakthroughs, not in boringly old-fashioned means of transportation."

"Right!" Hiro gestures with his empty glass. "But instead of just giving the reigns of the fleet to someone able, Iro keeps meddling with that department all the damn time. So now he's on the look-out for someone to take that position, and I guess that's where you come in."

Surprised, Chris shakes his head. "I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't _and_ won't. For many reasons. And he never dropped as much as a hint that he wanted me for this." There's suddenly a bad taste on his tongue, memories of his presumed _Crown Prince_ status within Starfleet rising up. He really doesn't need such a situation again, especially not if it ends in a similar way with all bridges burned. 

"Just wait and see," Hiro says. 

Chris pulls himself together. Iro might have his own interests in Chris, but their friendship came before their business relationship. And so far, Iro has never given him a reason to suspect that he would manipulate and pull Chris' strings as ruthlessly as Nogura had done so often.

Deciding to focus on the actual point of their unofficial meeting, he empties his second glass and declines as Hiro is about to refill it. "No thanks. If you want to make this a drinking contest, you win hands down. I'm on medication so that's been more than enough alcohol for the night. Coming back to the academy – fact is that we need to get it running again, and pretty quickly, and _together_. That will mean changes to your current system. You've probably read my various messages and outlines, despite never having answering any."

"I have," Hiro says flatly.

"They were intended as suggestions. As a base for discussion. How about it – can you imagine working with me with on this?"

The man pours himself a third glass, downing half of it before saying with a sigh, "Yes, I can. I don't want to see the place close down, it would be a shame. I thought about stepping back but that would only make it easier for Iro to shut it down."

Chris leans forward, intently meeting Hiro's eyes. "What do you really want?" 

The man curls his hands around the glass but holds his gaze. "When I retire in a few years, I want to leave a well-functioning academy, something IXOS and I can be proud of."

"Do you already have a successor in mind?"

"Actually, yes, I've had a relatively young but extremely gifted woman on my team for a few months now. We've had our share of arguments already, but she's really good, usually has a point and manages to convince me of her position."

"You think she'd be willing to put in the effort?"

"I think so." Hiro takes a deep breath, his eyes sweeping along the fireplace before settling back to Chris. "May sound a little weird, but I'm quite... relieved that Iro sent you."

"Yes, I think it was a good idea too." Chris smiles, then can't hold back a yawn. "I'm exhausted. How about calling it a night? I'll just stay on this couch over here." He really doesn't feel like using the bed in this love nest.

"Fine by me." Hiro gets up and walks around the house, returning with a cushion and two comfy, warm blankets. Soon Chris settles on the couch, curling himself into the made-up bedding.

"Night, Chris. I'll wake you up when S'n is willing to let us leave this place."

"Fine. Good night, Hiro." His eyelids drop, as he enjoys the sweet feeling of alcohol-catalyzed drowsiness and the satisfaction that comes with a job done well, knowing that future collaboration with Yamamoto will be if not always easy, then at least always productive.

***

The days with Hiro at the academy pass in a whirl of interesting activities. There's just nothing that compares to the beautiful energy of excited young people that are hungry for space and knowledge, and Chris gives a random thought to the idea of teaching a class or two in the near future, just to inhale that atmosphere a little longer. The meeting with the instructors, most of them still motivated and willing to put in some work to ensure the academy's future, elevates Chris' mood further. Adlin Tscho, the woman that Hiro had pointed out as potential successor, might be young but comes from a family of deep space researchers. Having basically grown up on ships of various sizes, her knowledge is extremely broad and up-to-date, and her personality and ego stable enough to survive some conflicts with the old man. It's very clear that most other instructors already accept her in her relay position, bringing smaller problems to her first and to Hiro second, so mentoring her further into becoming the new academy head should be easy. 

In the evenings, Hiro always excuses himself for the night with a wink, and Chris knows he's meeting the Caitain at the cabin. The two can't see each other very often either, considering that B'rl's flight plan probably rarely passes this planet, but they seem to deal well with that aspect. 

All good things come to an end, in this case on the fourth day when the _Arrivo_ is scheduled to leave. Chris wraps it up and hits the space station in time – only to learn that the _Arrivo_ 's departure is delayed by four hours. With unexpected free time on his hands, he decides to find a gym. There's one available on the top floor of the station, and after paying a fee, he's welcome to use the facilities. 

The first half hour feels good, with a light warm-up and two machines; he's trying not to overdo anything although the last few days without workouts have left him itching for action. It's at the third station when he's pushing himself with a couple of pull-ups, that he suddenly feels a little strange. Carefully lowering himself from the rack, he takes the borrowed towel and moves aside to get out of other people's way.

Something wet pools on his upper lip and assuming it to be sweat, Chris wipes through it.

His hand comes back bright red.

In fact, as he looks down there's red all over his shirt. 

"No," he gasps, shocked to his depth. And then his knees buckle, sending him down on the mat. Someone rushes by, voices around him, hands on his shoulders… and then only black. 

***

When he slowly returns to consciousness, it's to bright white and him flat on his back, a frustratingly familiar position. Someone moves to his right, and he blindly reaches out. "Dael…" 

"Welcome back, Mister Pike. I'm Doctor Smith, your treating physician," an unknown female voice says as his hand is captured. "You were unconscious for a few minutes. How do you feel?"

Taking a shaky inhale, he gathers his wit and opens his eyes fully. It's indeed a hospital room, possibly the emergency unit, but there's no technology around him, it's just him on a medbed in his training clothes. He moves his limbs, then tries to sit up. 

"Take it slowly," the woman says and supports him until he ends in a seated position with his legs dangling over the edge. 

"What do I have?" he asks, wishing his walls were up but for once his usual protection mechanism doesn't seem to hold, and he's still shell-shocked and shaking and barely able to breathe. 

"You had a nosebleed and fainted."

"Just – a nosebleed?" Noticing that he's clamped his hands quite harshly around the doctor's lower arms, he loosens his grip with effort. "I never just have – just that," he mutters somewhat confused.

"Some people faint when that happens, it's a physiological reaction," the doctor says. "Did you ever experience that in the past?"

"No, never. The last time I had nosebleed…" He falls silent, as the walls at last raise and settle, much too late. 

"Here, drink this, it should help." The doctor reaches him a cup. "I thought about giving you a drug but then I noticed your emergency information on the bracelet, indicating that unless there's acute danger for your life, doctors need to consult with your dedicated physician first."

"Oh. Yes." The bracelet Chris wears on his right arm has that much become a part of himself that he barely even notices it anymore. "You're sure it was just a nosebleed?"

The doctor scrutinizes him. "Yes, very sure. Do you think it was something else? Do you want me to examine you for something special?"

Pretty sure that she wouldn't have the equipment and knowledge necessary for that on this small outpost, he slowly shakes his head. "No, I guess you're right. I'll depart in..." He checks a nearby clock. "… two hours, I can see my doctor then."

"How about that, you stay here for another moment, just sit and relax?"

Feeling the sudden urge to get out of here before she feels the desire to subject him to a deeper analysis of her choosing, he hastily says, "No thanks, I think I'm good." Underlining his statement, he slips from the bench. His stance is stable, his knees hold, and if his heart is still beating too fast, that's not what's going to kill him, he thinks in a brief flash of dark humor that instantly grays out.

On the way back, he declines Captain B'rl's offer to take the bridge again, relieved that she's too busy to talk to him – she'd be much too perceptive about his mood shift.

He doesn't sleep during the journey. 

***

"Hello, master of my destiny," Iro says easily when he walks into their suite the next evening, placing a kiss on George's cheek in passing. His husband stands in the kitchenette, preparing some kind of shake.

"Hello, darling." Without batting an eye, George hands him the shake. 

"It looks… very green," Iro says critically. 

"Drink down, it's good for you."

Iro chuckles. "Good for me is my least favorite meal." Testing the waters, he sips at it. "Not bad," he says surprised. "Woodruff?" Noticing the serious impression on George's face and knowing that his partner wouldn't speak until Iro had satisfyingly relaxed from the long day, he actively asks, "Anything wrong?" 

"Have you seen Chris today?"

"Not yet, I was wrapped up in meetings. Wasn't he supposed to return today?"

"He arrived at 0820 but then called in sick."

"Oh. Did he see Vli?"

"No, he told her he's just overly tired from the trip."

Iro puts down the empty shake. "You think there's more behind this?" 

"She said there was an incident – nothing serious, from a medical point of view, but well…" George lets the sentence linger.

"Was there any disagreement with Yamamoto?"

"Not at all, he practically gushed over Chris, saying that he didn't know we had such able men here."

"And B'rl?"

"She claims all went well, to her best of knowledge. On the route to Comoro II, Chris took over the captain's chair for the necessary time to renew his license. On the way back, she was busy and he stayed in his quarters, claiming some work of his own kept him away from the bridge."

Without hesitation, Iro opens a call to Chris' trainer and frequent bed partner. From the noises in the background, the man is still in the gym when he answers, sound only. "Iro, what I can I do for?"

"Hello Bjarne, I wondered whether you have talked to Chris since his return."

There's a strange silence before Bjarne replies, "Actually yes, we were supposed to meet in the gym this morning. He arrived on time, but then I said something obviously wrong and he left."

Knowing that Chris isn't a man to throw hissy fits out of the blue, Iro alertedly looks at George. "What did you say?"

"I noted that he held himself back. Usually he's a 120% guy in the gym, but this morning, it was more like 50%, so I asked whether he had any health problems. He snapped at me and left without another word. I tried to call him later but after two futile attempts, I gathered he doesn't want to see me," Bjarne says, an unspoken _I'm not his keeper_ in his words. 

"Okay. Thanks for the information." Iro closes the line. "So – it happens at last."

"Not really unexpected," George says. "I'll go and talk him."

"Yes, I guess you're the right man for that." Iro sighs. They lace their hands for a moment. "I wish I could summon his precious tribe here but these people like to spread themselves thin."

"Right now, that wouldn't really be a solution ," George says.

"Maybe not. But still…" Iro pulls away. "Good luck."

***

Chris sits in the almost dark, the only light in the room the screen in front of him. He can't remember how long he has been sitting here, one leg folded up on the seat, arms slung around it. 

He ignores the door buzzer. It might be Bjarne or Vlian'i, he doesn't want to see either of them, there's just no point anymore. Not when the utter futility of all of this is so clear and indisputable. It's not the politics within IXOS or the academy... it's his own body that won't hold even for one trip. His being here any longer would only delay the inevitable; the next breakdown somewhere down the line, the next moment in which people close to him would suffer from his downfall. 

There's nothing but disappointment and frustration down this road.

When the door opens anyway, it's to a shadow against the corridor's bright light, someone he can't recognize until the person increases the lights. To find George there, unexpectedly, stops all the harsh words on Chris' tongue.

As if he lives here, George goes right to the small bar, taking out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses to put them on the table next to Chris, then pulls a chair close to take a seat. He pours two drinks, giving one to Chris.

"Have one," the man says, and there's something utterly serious and no-nonsense in his voice, so Chris can't but take it, despite having the suspicion that his nosebleed had been related to his social drinking as of late. The whiskey burns hot in his dry throat that hadn't seen coffee or water for far too long, and the heat suffuses in his guts on the way down. He places the empty glass on the table.

George's eyes flicker to the screen and away again without any visible reaction to the contents which he surely must have been able to read. At least the line, " _I hereby resign…_ "

"Did you ever wonder just why we stayed on the beach?" George asks. "Two people with an empire at their hands having the time to hang out on white sands, tending to a horse?"

Taken even further by surprise where this visit is going, Chris mutely shakes his head. 

"Or why with Doctor Vlian'i we've got one of the most decorated brain specialists of the quadrant on our team?"

Something dawns on Chris. 

"It's for me," George says simply. "Came down after surgery, tumor removed from my brain. Wasn't the first, isn't going to be the last."

"I never noticed anything," Chris supplies at last, feeling vaguely guilty for it. 

"I know I didn't look like it, I never had any problems with movement. But I felt the difference, the new limits, as did Iro. That's why he was especially eager to go on vacation with me. Taking Ashaire with us was a strange idea, he should have known better than to expect horses to like me." George smiles slightly.

"We only had one groom for the stables, other than that we were completely alone by choice, and never intended to let anyone come near us for the time being. Until we met you and Leonard, who never cared who we are and what strange roles we play in our private life, who didn't try to finagle projects or credits from us, who never asked for anything. Being able to talk to someone else but me is an absolute necessity for Iro, so all those joint dinners weren't just for you, they were just as much for him."

Chris nods silently.

"We'd like to have you here because we consider you a friend. We'd like to give you a job that you feel good about, where you can use your abilities the way you want to. But even if you only – and you know, there's never an _only_ in the circus – sat around in a corner all day and joined us for dinner, that would be great. We of all people understand what it means to have limitations due to health reasons, to not be functioning like before, whatever that _before_ means, and you can't disappoint us as long as you try to be your best – which you always do, I know you."

Silence falls over them, George patiently waiting and watching him. 

A sigh on his lips, Chris lets his head sink against the back of the chair. 

"I had a nosebleed," he says quietly. "Just – a nosebleed, but I fainted in shock. Last time I had one, it signaled my complete crash, mentally and physically. It took months of recovery before I was even able to go to that beach. Seeing that blood on my chest once more almost made my heart stop, literally, and all the defenses and work I'd put into my mental recovery just felt… gone, crashed again. I couldn’t face anyone, couldn't deal with the smallest task. A good Samaritan made sure I made it back to the spaceport, I'm not sure I could've done it by myself."

"You think there's really something wrong right now?" 

"No," Chris admits. "Not really. Nothing but the aftershock."

George nods. "I can relate. One of the first sign that something was wrong with me was waking up and the world was all out of focus. Whenever I experience something similar now, I rub my eyes in barely contained panic. Most of the time, it goes away; sometimes it doesn't."

Chris unlaces his folded leg. It itches as the blood flow restarts. "I can't really do the job you want me to. I understand by now that the IXOS fleet is in some trouble, heard stories about how Iro fired its old head of operations, but I can't fill that spot."

"I know, and we'll get that into Iro's stubborn head" George says. "But that doesn't mean that your knowledge isn't extremely valuable. We can always acquire good people from Starfleet and other organizations, but they need someone they can relate to, some kind of supervisor and support in the circus that speaks their language. So from my point of view, what we need – and you might think about that, no pressure – is someone who's practically our internal 'fleet liaison, who can translate the demands of the ships into suggestions for actions for our commercial heads. And who gets our academy going again, which has really suffered from years of neglect. Your choice, however much time you can and want to put into it, and from where you want to work." There's that slight smile again. "Iro wants you to stay here, but I know you want to go back to Earth. I'm sure we'll find a good arrangement by then." 

Chris doesn't quite know what to say. George takes the silence as a good moment to refill their glasses, giving one to Chris.

"I like it here," Chris admits. "I just always feel that I don't measure up to what I should be able to do." 

"You will, it just takes a little time," George says. "There's a reason why I call it the _flea circus_ at times, and I feel with every newcomer here. Cheers." 

They clink glasses and down the bourbon. 

"You good?" George asks seriously.

Chris puts away his glass. "Yes. Quite. Thank you for giving me a reason to stay. I can't guarantee it will work out, but I'll give it another chance."

George nods and gets up, moving the bottle back into the bar, the glasses into the corner for the service to retrieve them. 

They're almost at the door when George turns around once more, saying quietly, "Seeing you gives Iro hope for me – that things can always improve again. And that's a good thing." 

Any possible answer catches in Chris' throat, so he's back to nodding mutely. 

George nods in return, then leaves.

***

"He's good," George says as he slips under the covers behind his significant other, placing a kiss on Iro's shoulder. 

"Great," Iro says relieved. "Won't hurt to push a certain someone a little anyway," he adds and taps the Send button on his PADD before putting it away and turning towards the most important person in his life.

 

_IXOS Headquarters to Leonard McCoy, NCC-1701 Enterprise_

_Dear Leonard,_

_If you really care about Chris, you better get your ass over here once in a while._

_And don't ever tell him that I wrote that._

_Iro_

***

It's late for a visitor, but Bjarne opens, not really surprised to see Chris in front of the door, clad in a hooded sweater and jeans.

"Come in," he says, and Chris walks into the room, eying it. "Looks similar to mine."

"Everyone in the circus has the same kind of suite, unless there's some unusual shortage of space," Bjarne says. 

His visitor turns, and they face each other in silence for a moment.

"I was close to resigning. Someone changed my mind," Chris confesses. "I need… I need someone to be with tonight, to keep me off the wrong track of thoughts again. "

The man had never looked so fragile to Bjarne, and it stirs something deep inside of him. "How about getting out of those clothes and I'll give you a massage?" he suggests, glad when Chris accepts the suggestion, stripping and stretching out on his stomach on the large bed. 

Bjarne is still dressed when he kneels over him, slicking his hands with massage oil. This isn't a night for sex, but for comfort. He's torn between being moved by being Chris' go-to person for that and just a little bit concerned that in Chris' mind, their sex arrangement might have developed into something he can't deliver. 

But these are concerns for another night, he decides and delves into Chris' tense shoulder muscles. 

It doesn't take long before the man falls asleep under his touch. 

***

The two text messages with the _Enterprise_ signature reach Chris in a long, boring meeting, and so he quietly skims through them on his PADD. The first seems to be an itinerary – the second is a message from the doc. 

_Hey lover,_

_I just sent you a flight plan and schedule – Jim and I will be close to your current position in just three weeks! I'm attending a conference and could stay with you for three days on my return flight before we both join Jim for a little shoreleave. I hope you've got time and are able to get together with us. We'd love that. We miss you._

_Please tell us ASAP whether that works for you –_

_Leonard._

He can't hold back an excited gasp that makes some heads turn, but the prospect of seeing his men again is just too great. Noticing Iro's curious gaze from the left, Chris moves the PADD over so that his friend could read it. 

"Great news," Iro whispers, swapping back to the other message to check the dates. 

Chris sends back an excited reply, cherishing the good news all day. 

It's only in the evening, when he goes to the gym and sees Bjarne smiling at him, that Chris feels a little uncomfortable – despite having remarked in a vid to the _Enterprise_ men that he's got a sex life again, he hasn't really told them that the man shares his bed several nights every week.

And also, he doesn't quite know how to tell Bjarne.

***

"I guess it's a good sign when I'm rebooked to _Presidential_ class, right?" Leonard asks Jim a day after receiving Chris' enthusiastic reply.

"I guess so," Jim says, looking over his husband's shoulder. "Ah, that's IXOS' doing? Who's George Karaschin?"

"That's Iro's husband. Apparently the actual boss behind the corporation, although on the beach, he didn't look anything like that."

"Chris really has a talent for having friends in high places." Jim pats Leonard's shoulder. "And now you've got some too."

Leonard nods, closing the ticket display. "Did you hear anything from Dael?"

"No. Sent her the message and it seemed to have gone through, but nothing yet."

The men ponder the non-news in silence for a moment. 

When Leonard opens his mouth, Jim roughly waves his hand. "Don't say it," he states. "Just... don't."

"I only wanted to suggest having dinner, I'm starved," Leonard says matter-of-factly, ignoring Jim's frustrated reaction.

"Food sounds great," his husband readily replies, making the first steps towards the door. "While we eat, let me tell you a little bit about Scotty's newest engineering magic, it's a really awesome invention..." He chats along as they walk out of their quarters.

There's little that Leonard dislikes as much as these technology discussions, but it makes Jim happy to share it with him, so he bites his tongue and dedicates the evening to his captain's whims.

Just three weeks until they'll see Chris in person again.

***

With a sigh, Chris rolls over, stretching his limbs. "What a workout..."

"The training or the fuck?" Bjarne asks amusedly, still a little out of breath. He leans over Chris, placing a few kisses up his shoulder.

"Both." Chris cradles the head of his sex buddy. For a while, they just lay there, then they drag each other to the shower.

"I saw you canceled your training for next week." Bjarne says while brushing Chris's back. "Going on another IXOS mission?"

"No, it's more like vacation," Chris says. "The doc's going to visit me here before we'll meet Jim."

"Cool. I bet you're looking forward to seeing them again."

"I am. However, it also means we won't see each other for a bit."

Bjarne nods. "I guess your doc wouldn't be up for a threesome..."

"Why do you think that?" Chris asks, turning around face Bjarne.

"You never said it explicitly, but he sounds a little, well, possessive. Not like a man who likes to share. Should I keep away from you when we meet at a gathering?"

Chris ponders the question, then sighs. "Maybe, yes. It's hard to predict whether he'd be comfortable with you or not. It depends on his mood."

"I can do that," Bjarne says. 

"I'm sorry, it isn't really my style to –"

Bjarne puts one fingers on Chris' lips. "We agreed on no strings, no promises, and I'm still fine with that. Frankly, it's what I prefer." 

Chris nods, but can't help asking, "Don't you ever want to have a partner, a committed relationship?"

Bjarne's jaw tightens.

"Sorry, it's not my right to ask," Chris quickly backpedals. There's a brief silence between them before Bjarne replies, "Let's just say that knowing you're taken is the main reason I even considered starting something with you."

"Okay." Chris says, sorely wishing he could put the genie back into the bottle. 

For two days things are a little strained between them; then Bjarne comes over again for their nightly drinks and regular fucks, much to Chris' relief.

***

For two weeks, Spock had patiently waited for his young companion to deal with the information they had gathered on Galan VI. While still on the planet, he had watched Dael pour every waking hour into volunteering in an orphanage, a purpose he'd thought to be perfectly matched with her life's journey. But since their departure, she'd mostly retreated to her room, painting as if obsessed. Not digitally – no, she had even made him take a detour to a station where she could acquire a generous supply of oil paints and canvas. But not a single painting leaves her room, everything guarded by her like a treasure.

Spock had promised to return her safely, his word given without hesitation to the men who are most important to him in this and another life, but as time goes by, concern grows in him that he might not be able to keep his promise. Dael's state seems unstable; in the rare afternoons that she slips next to him on his meditation bench, she's radiating confusion, pain and fear. 

He knows that the original plan had been to meet the Enterprise, but that had been canceled upon Dael's insistence that she's not ready for it yet. She might not be ready, but the way her behavior is developing, she might never be ready again.

A fate Spock could not watch without intervention. He braces himself as he knocks at her door, opening it when she doesn't respond.

He expects chaos, but surprisingly the room is far from it; the canvases are lined up everywhere, but visibly sorted and arranged by a clear mind. Dael sits on the bed, legs crossed beneath her, looking up from another finished painting to meet his eyes. There's no surprise or defense in her expression, only a strange serenity.

"They don't match," she says. 

"What, particularly?" Spock asks.

"The images... how everything looked.... it doesn't match the images in my head." She waves around. "From a distance, they all look the same. But when you try to align them, you find they just don't match. They aren't the same images." She sounds utterly frustrated. "I always can match them. They are _my_ images, you know? They always do what I want. But not these…"

Spock looks at the forefront motifs more closely; indeed, the paintings are very similar, showing the same places of the Galan VI over and over again, but they're never exactly the same. "What do you think caused this mismatch?"

"I don't know." She looks at him. "But I want to know."

He instantly understands what she's asking about but he's not sure he can give it to her. He hasn't performed a meld since Jim, too disturbed about his failure of control back then. "This may not be wise."

"Don't you think it's fate that we're here together? You being the one person who can truly answer this question?"

Fate indeed that had brought Christopher's wife and Jim's beloved partner onboard his vessel... or maybe he should call it obsession, rather, the one way to stay in touch with what he could not have. "Vulcans have no concept of fate." 

"Romulans do. Fate rules everything."

He does not correct her overly simplified interpretation of Romulan philosophy. 

"Help me, Spock. Help me find out, because it's driving me crazy and I don't want to be crazy. I want to go home to Christopher but I can't go like this." She looks so young and lost all of a sudden, her pain reverberating in Spock. 

In a final decision, he sits down next to her. "I am no healer," he says carefully. "I may not be able to answer all of your questions."

"I know," Dael says in a hushed tone, turning towards him.

"Knowledge also cannot be unlearned."

"I accept. But I need to know."

Spock does not point out how unwise her quest may be. The information they gathered has given him insight into Dael's challenging history, and he prefers by far to keep her away from anything potentially dangerous to her mental well-being. 

However, he also cannot refuse her plea for help. 

He puts his fingertips on her face. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. 

"My mind to your mind..."

 

When they come out of the meld, Spock's fingers are wet.

"Sorry," Dael whispers and wipes her cheeks with both hands. "It just never felt so good. I hated their melds, even those of T'Pelei. They always felt cold... but yours doesn't."

"You're welcome," Spock says, unable to find a more sensible reply in this moment of inner turmoil. He would have to meditate on this experience for a while.

Dael turns serious. "So there's a block? Like a large, iron gate?"

"Yes, of your own choosing, apparently."

"Could I pass through it? Reach what's behind?"

"I would not recommend opening the gate," Spock says directly. "You obviously have chosen this block once. It needs quite an effort to erect one so thoroughly, someone considered it time and effort well-spent."

He does not mention the way the stone walls around the iron gate seem to be coming apart little by little, allowing glimpses of subdued light to pass. A natural, slow development over the next decades, which would probably not challenge Dael beyond her point of tolerance. 

"It's... important," she mutters.

"Why? To you? Or to someone else?"

"I don't want to hide from him anymore. I want him to be able to know me, all of me," she says quietly.

"Christopher? I had the impression that he’s always accepted you for what you are and what you choose to reveal to him."

"If he knew the things I know by now..." Dael tilts her head towards a discarded PADD. "It could change everything. Make him act differently towards me." She bows forward, curling around her folded legs. "Make him leave me in disgust."

"You seem to trust very little in his feelings for you," Spock says a little more sharply than he intended. "And in his life's experiences. He isn't a man to judge someone else in black and white terms, he has faced many challenging situations in which every decision is imperfect and suboptimal. You were there for him the aftermath of the _Narada_ , and you should know that he will be there for you just the same, even if you speak with him of your past." He stops for a moment, aware that his emotional control is a little _worse for wear_ , as his Doctor McCoy would have termed it. 

"Christopher has accepted you without knowing everything there is to know about you," he adds more softly. "It does not matter whether it is knowledge you do not want to share, or knowledge you cannot share. No human being will ever know everything about another – in fact, not even Vulcans will. We all have iron gates we do not want to pass ourselves, much less let anyone else pass through them. It does not make us less. It only makes us.... human." 

"You are no human," Dael says, smiling a little.

"At times, we all are." Spock gets up. "I will leave you and meditate for a while. I suggest you calculate a route to the _Enterprise._ I will be with you in a few hours."

"Yes, And – thank you." She gets up, curling around him in a brief, strong embrace before leaving for ops, her fingers still full of paint. 

Spock sighs a little as he lies down on the hard meditation bench. Sometimes Dael makes him feel old and tired. But on other days, she makes him feel young and excited, and it is this balance that brings him joy.

All would end well.


	2. Chapter 2

It's not a beach house Leonard is delivered to, a little dusty and tired after his travels, but it's still something of the same feeling as two IXOS people deliver him right to Chris' suite half a day before his officially planned time of arrival.

Actually Leonard would've preferred to meet Chris on more neutral ground, but Iro hadn't wanted to hear any of that.

" _He's been talking about nothing but your visit for three weeks,_ " Chris' boss had said in the short vid message, " _trust me,_ _when he sees you, last thing he needs are spectators lining up._ "

And so he's here, lowering his bag into a corner before inspecting the two spacious rooms, one a living room with a couch ensemble and a business corner, the other one the bedroom. Despite the subdued luxury – or maybe because of it – the rooms still look mostly impersonal, no surprise here. On the living room wall, however, there's a large rotating picture frame with pictures of the four of them, currently showing one of the photographs that had been taken near the end of their first get-together back on Earth. Leonard looks at it wistfully for a moment, until the picture swaps and there is suddenly a drawing in the mix, Dael's, he supposes. He frowns when he recognizes it as a character study of the old Spock, and turns away.

His communicator pings. " _You've got thirty minutes_ ," it says under Iro's number.

Well, time to take a shower then.

When Leonard walks out fifteen minutes later, freshly shaven and thoroughly clean and just a touch prepared for all the fun they'd hopefully engage in soon, the rooms are still empty. For a second, he plays with the thought of slipping into Chris' bed, offering his naked self as welcome. But then he decides that acting out some romantic cliché might not be the best way to meet after months of separation, and puts on a buttoned shirt and a pair of jeans. There's a small but likely very potent coffeemaker in the business corner of the living room, and he gives it a try.

"Wow," he mutters as he sips the dark brew. The coffee is even better than in Chris' apartment, which is really hard to top. When he sits down with his cup, he has another deja-vu moment of the beach house. Back then, he'd come to support Chris' recovery, to be guardian, therapist, healer and lover all in one person. Today… if there's any patient at all, it's himself. This time around it was Chris who'd apparently bounced back the fastest and easiest of the four of them, and there had been moments in which Leonard hadn't taken that well, although he had hidden it most of the time... aside from one drunken message in which he'd laid some blame on _emotionally-untouched-Chris_ – he'd never forgive himself for that one, but thankfully, Chris had done all the forgiving instead.

So Leonard knows he's welcome, even more than he did at the beach, but it's complicated in its own way.

When the door whooshes open, he springs to his feet.

***

Ever since the talk with George, Chris's attitude towards his role in the IXOS circus has completely changed. Knowing that the couple sees it as a _friendship first, business second_ relationship has taken such an incredible amount of self-inflicted pressure from his shoulders. Everything he can contribute would be welcomed; every point at which he might need to draw the line, especially for health reasons, would be accepted as well. He still wants to prove that he's of more use to the corporation than just a decorative add-on at Iro's table, but nobody expects miracles from him.

Logically, he starts delivering great results from the next day on. In meetings in which he would've held back even two weeks ago because he felt he lacked the full picture, he now contributes his opinion – always with the caveat that he is speaking based on his different background, but more often than not bringing a new, productive angle into the discussion.

The first academy changes are implemented so smoothly that Iro almost doesn't notice... not until the budget increase request hits the desk of a controller.

"Sneaky," he says amusedly to Chris over breakfast, then leaves and signs off twice the requested amount of credits.

A new trading route is established in an area in which Chris had run patrols for a while, many years ago; he's still able to improve the original design, contributing some very specific information about the stability of subspace in that area. 

And if Iro is a little sorry that Chris absolutely puts his foot down about taking over the fleet, his friend doesn't say. To ease the letdown, Chris helps search for a candidate among former 'fleet members that had moved on to other shores. This way, Chris doesn't have to worry that he would weak Starfleet by recruiting away from them. Iro has fewer qualms, but after an armed conflict that would have cost them three ships full of extremely valuable raw material if a Starfleet vessel hadn't come to their rescue, his friend comes around to the opinion that a strong Starfleet also serves the commercial traffic.

If they need anything, it's more _collaboration_ , not more competition.

With everything going so fabulously all of a sudden, the arrival for the doc in a few hours will make his world quite perfect. And then Jim... he can't quite trust in his luck yet, and so he keeps himself busy in an attempt to stop himself from overthinking. When he hits his suite in the late afternoon, he is still wearing his headset; the expeditor from the sector of the armed conflict had called and asked him for input on the matter, and he gladly offers that – although frankly, an expeditor shouldn't actually be the person to deal with these problems.

"We all need more intelligence on that sector, or the Vrenn will steal us blind, both the Federation and IXOS. How about I draft a proposal to –"

And then his door opens and all words get stuck in his throat as he looks into the doc's smiling face.

***

Chris looks gorgeous, dressed in dark business pants and a creamy silk shirt, a black vest half-buttoned over it, his hair a little long and wild. He also looks very busy, eyes focused on the ground as he keeps talking into a wireless headset – until he looks up and falls abruptly silent.

He recovers quickly, though, and smoothly makes a transition. "I just got an incoming, extremely important message that I've got to take. How about you send me a summary of our talk, and I'll draft some suggestions for improving our information flow in that region? Yes. - Great, thanks. Talk to you soon."

With one fluid movement, Chris rips the headset off his ear and throws it onto the table.

"Don't ruin your gadgets," Leonard can't help saying with a grin.

"I kill one of these every month. Always complain to Iro about the shit quality our company delivers, but I guess he's stockpiled them by now just to torture me." Chris takes a step forward. "Doc… it's so good to see you. You're early."

"Some IXOS gorillas abducted me for extra-fast delivery." Leonard looks him over. "It's good to see you too, Chris. You look great."

"And you haven't even see me out of my clothes yet," Chris replies with a smile.

They draw together, their first touch reverently chaste, hands around upper arms.

"I missed you," Leonard whispers.

"Missed you too." Chris's hands release their hold, slip around his body, and pull him into an embrace. "So good having you here."

They kiss, at last, and it's everything Leonard had hoped for, sweet and intense and more heated by the second. As they part, they're both breathing harder, their pants already a little tighter.

"Guess it was Iro's idea to deliver you right here," Chris says roughly. "Good thing – this way, I can get you out of this. Right. Now." Despite the tangible urge in his voice, he slowly runs his fingertips up Leonard's neckline. "I've dreamed about having you here. Two days to ourselves… then the three of us reconnecting, remembering what we have together… and what we'll have again" 

Closing his eyes, Leonard inhales with a shudder. "Yes."

"Let me undress you…" Chris whispers, and ever so slowly unbuttons the shirt, every move a fleeting caress on Leonard's sensitive skin. Once the fabric is gone, hands dance over his chest, running up his flanks and down his back, drawing circles on his ass. Then the skilled fingers move on, opening the jeans and easing them down his hips. Chris is so close, Leonard can feel his rapid heartbeat, utterly captured in the radiant heat of the body next to his. 

"Let me adore you…" Before he's quite parsed Chris' intention, his growing hard-on is engulfed in his lover's skillful mouth, literally adored and fondled and pleased and stimulated, and he's torn, he'd wanted to make this different, to be more active and not just receive, but he's putty in Chris' hand and it feels so good to give up control again, to moan into the quiet room, his hands laced into Chris' longer curls, wanting more, wanting it all, now.

But then Chris stops, moving them to the bed despite some small protest from Leonard. Soon Chris is out of clothes and returns to kneel above him. "What do you want?" he whispers, pressing kisses along his chest.

"I want you," Leonard moans, invitingly stretching his legs to opposite sides of the bed. "Come on, don't let me wait…"

"I missed this," Chris whispers into his ear. "Missed you, so much."

"Take me, show you how much you missed me…" Leonard begs.

"You want that, want me in you to remind you who you belong to?" Chris crouches over Leonard, lacing their hands above his head and uttering between kissing all over the his lover's face, "Want me to – hold you down and take you – take you hard enough that you can't sit down tomorrow – " With their groins already rutting together, the slide of their heavy erections against each other is almost agonizing.

"Yes, damn, please," Leonard moans, spreading his legs and pushing upwards invitingly. 

"I'll give you that." Releasing him for a moment, Chris angles for the lube.

"Don't need... I'm prepared..."

"Really?" Chris chuckles, running a testing hand down between Leonard's legs. Leonard whimpers as two fingers glide in without much resistance. "Yes, I can feel it," Chris whispers, nipping at his earlobe. "That's so hot... knowing that you came all that way for this, so eager for my cock..." Two fingers turn to four, not too gentle, but just as intense as Leonard wants it right now.

His eyes roll back while his hands reach out, cupping Chris' hot ass to urge him along. "Come on, give me the real thing. Please."

"I will, I will." Chris shifts and moves home.

***

It's early morning – or something comparable to that – when Leonard feels the bed moving. His mumbled words are answered by a kiss to his temple and a soothing " _just need to get a meeting done, will be back soon_ " whispered in his ear, before the warm body next to him leaves. He drifts back to sleep for a while, and when he wakes up again, he can hear Chris in the next room more clearly. It sounds as if the meeting is still ongoing. Suddenly, an idea grows in his head… childish, silly maybe, but well…

Quietly, Leonard leaves the bed and looks around the divider into the kitchen-slash-office room. Chris sits at the table, a cup, a cam and a flexible monitor in front of him, the headphones once again in position. He notices when Leonard looks, although his eyes barely flicker away from the conference call, and waves with one hand outside of the cam's range, signaling three times five fingers.

Leonard has no intention of waiting that long to get his share of the sexy man who's sitting there, amusingly just half-dressed. The once again chiseled chest he'd noticed last night is hiding behind smooth silk, and everything the cam catches is perfect business-appearance. However, below the waist, where the fabric ends, a pair of muscled, bare legs rest on the floor. Chris is leaning slightly back, a position of both power and relaxation; if the meeting sounded like a critical emergency call, Leonard would reign in his impulse, but as it is, he has no qualms about sexing up what appears to be a weekly status update for that academy pet project.

He goes down on the floor and crawls forward, under the table. Once he's between Chris' legs, he finds a comfortable kneeling position. These legs… he doesn't know how Chris did it, but there must've been quite some training involved, because they look forbiddingly _hot_. He runs a first touch down their inner sides, letting his fingertips take in the muscles and sinews. They resemble the legs of a Greek statue – now those were a people who knew how to cherish male beauty.

The legs twitch away a little as he keeps caressing them but he shamelessly takes advantage of Chris' limited range of movement, teasing and kissing and tickling the calves of his lover. And it does seem to have an effect on his man, as in front of Leonard's eyes, the formerly soft cock starts rising. For a while, he restricts himself from touching it, just watching the growing glory, but then the meeting drags on and he decides that this definitely needs to speed up. Bending forward, he draws his tongue from the root to the top in one deliberate move before descending on it fully, bottoming out on it. A small groan reaches his ear, hastily swallowed and covered by a cough. Then a hand reaches down, trying to get a grip on his head but failing as he pulls up… only to slide his lips back down over the hard member a second later. Chris' fingers manage to capture his hair at last but not strongly enough to keep him away from his ministrations; and as was his plan, suddenly the meeting draws to an end, some vague excuses uttered over the line by his overexcited lover. Something drops heavily on the table, then two hands reach down, tightly gripping him.

"I can't believe you did that," Chris admonishes him.

"Come on, haven't you ever engaged in a conference call while someone sucked you off?" Leonard giggles, excited and horny himself.

"Hmm, well –" The frown vanishes, rapidly replaced with a self-conscious grin. "Childish bastard," Chris says anyway and drags Leonard's head right and left by his hair, like shaking a puppy. Then he pulls him forward, right back on his cock, and Leonard happily obliges. 

But the morning hours don't seem to be in their favor, as five minutes later, with Chris all debauched and halfway to an orgasm, there's another incoming call. Already guessing that Chris might want to take it, Leonard launches a full blow job attack, intend to keep the man from having even one stray thought, but dammit, Chris has control enough to get up and move two steps away from him.

"Voice only," Chris states, his voice almost normal. "Iro? What's up?"

"Good morning, Chris. I hope the doctor's arrival has been welcome…?"

Chris looks down at Leonard. "Yes, thanks. Our reunion was delightful – actually, still _is_ delightful."

On the other end, Iro chuckles. "Fine. I wanted to invite the two of you the breakfast meeting of the circus."

"That why you called? I always intended to go."

"Just wanted to make sure that the doctor feels invited too. I'm looking forward to meeting him again in person."

"Sure, I'll bring him along. We'll be running a little late, though. Should be there in half an hour."

"No problem, take your time. And for now – carry on." With a last chuckle, Iro ends the call.

Chris puts the headset away. "Get up," he orders, curling one forefinger.

Leonard groans as he crawls forward to get away from under the table, his knees aching a little. When he moves to stand, he finds his blood flow had been blocked enough to make his legs tingle in relief.

"Don't ever interrupt a meeting again," Chris says, dragging him by the ear to the bed.

Well... if what follows is intended as punishment, Leonard would gladly interrupt every single of Chris' meetings for the rest of his life.

***

The group circus breakfast seems to be in its final throes when they finally make it there, but as Leonard had already mused, a certain couple is still waiting for them. Considering that these two run a mega-corp, they sure seem to have a lot of time on their hands when it comes to Chris.

He would've always recognized Iro again – still a little chubby, with the brown hair even longer than in the past. But although Chris had warned him about George, he can't help staring at the man for far too long when they shake hands, struck by the incredible metamorphosis from submissive slave to top manager, with short black hair instead of his formerly shaved head.

"Don't quite look the same, do I?" George says calmly.

"Uh, no," Leonard agrees hastily. "Sorry, it's quite a change."

"Back then, we were on vacation," Iro says. "Which we don't take very often, so we indulged into our little game quite intensely." He steers Leonard towards the buffet, pulling him away from Chris for what is obviously intended to be a private chat.

"I'm glad you could get here so fast." Iro says, invitingly waving at the plates. "Here, have some food."

"Not that hungry," Leonard says but takes one anyway, mostly to be polite.

"Well, if things work out like Chris hopes, you'll need all the protein you can get." Iro smirks.

Leonard shakes his head, discarding the plate to gear up for the real subject. "Okay, I understand that you consider yourself his friend and that you care enough to practically haul me here to cheer him up. And I'm really damn glad that he seems to have found an interesting new career in a group where he's welcome. But why do you bother that much?"

"As you said – I – actually both of us, George and I, are his friends and confidants in the rare moments he needs someone, and as such we want him to have a good life. Which obviously needs to include his wayward lovers who he quietly pines after all the time."

"Well, if you know that much about the situation, you know it's wasn't our choice to stay away," Leonard says, a little annoyed. "Jim and I were ready to leave for Earth, and we would've still gone if they'd let us. Instead, they left and I had to deal with the fall-out." Listening to his own voice, he recognizes how his own frustration with the situation of the last few months creeps through once more.

"Anyway, now I'm here, so I hope you're satisfied."

"I'll be when Chris is," Iro says, looking past Leonard. Following the man's gaze, they quietly observe the object of their discussion for a moment, who stands in a distant corner, talking to George and a Rigellian.

"Chris is one of the most loyal souls I've ever met," Iro says, more seriously. "Once he's decided that something is worth his effort, it's incredibly hard to make him draw away. Starfleet took their sweet time in eroding his loyalty. Their loss, my win. I intend to keep him in my company for a very long time."

"Makes him sound like your pet."

"Well, we're very willing to look after him, but I know that he's here because he ran out of other alternatives, that his original plans were quite different. I wish for him that your joint dreams still come to pass. But even if he considers moving to Earth with you, I'd still like to have him working for me."

Leonard shrugs, feeling tired in the face of Iro's energy and tangible determination. "Who knows what the future will bring, it's not as if our planning has done a lot of good so far."

"You must _believe_ in your case, doctor. In your love, your relationship."

"Believing in it hasn't ever been my problem," Leonard says, drawing his gaze away from Chris. "It's the living with it that's not always as easy as it should be." He sighs – he might as well be frank with Iro.

"Chris and Jim and I – we'll always stay together somehow, I think. But I don't think that without Dael, we'll ever really settle down, on Earth or anywhere."

"Which wouldn't be good for Chris in the long run," Iro states.

"No."

"Unless he finds someone new and gets over her... and maybe even you," Iro says, a little challenging.

"As you said yourself... once he lets something into his life at all, he's in for keeps. Even let his terrible ex in again, who'd walked out on him on very bad terms." Leonard rolls his eyes. "And that guy really almost ruined his life."

"I understand." Iro's thoughtful gaze momentarily drifts back to the group on the other side. "Then I guess we'll need to ensure her return."

Leonard frowns. "Don't interfere for now, _please_. Dael needs this time for herself right now. If we don't give it to her, we'll be in worse trouble later. Jim and I will take care of Chris, we've got some great surprises planned. He'll be fine for a while, and so will we."

"All right," Iro says in a vague promise, although Leonard wouldn't bet on the man refraining from meddling with Dael in the near future... or whenever he damn pleases. He has no illusions about Iro's far-reaching influence in this universe and that the IXOS head wouldn't give a second thought to using it for his own private goals, if necessary, because he _could_.

His gaze back on the man of his desire, he startles as someone draws near to Chris, kissing him on his lips in the familiar way lovers do. Leonard gapes at the man – blond, broad-shouldered... this must be Bjarne.

"I see it's time to return you to Chris," Iro says, smirking at the scene. "See you around, Leonard, and take care of him."

"Will do."

Iro leaves him, and while Leonard is actually hungry by now, he's more driven to catch up with Chris who's standing alone in the corner now, the other man having walked over to another area of the buffet.

***

Standing aside, Chris gives Iro and the doc space for a little private discussion, chit-chatting with George and the Rigellian for a while. Despite being curious, he thinks it a good idea for his lover and his friend to reconnect. It would serve them all better if the relationship between the two were more relaxed.

"Good morning," he's unexpectedly greeted by Bjarne, the words followed by a brief kiss to his lips. Chris flushes a little as he notices the doc's gaze on them.

"Hey there," he says, pulling away. "I've got a visitor with me – Leonard is here."

"Oh, then I better keep away," Bjarne says, and his unexpected twinkle relaxes Chris. Remembering that they both prefer their _no strings_ terms of interaction, the brief moment of weirdness dissolves as Bjarne gives him a last nod and then moves on to the leftover buffet.

Chris isn't surprised when the doc joins his side briefly after.

"That's your lover?"

"Yes." Chris watches him for his reaction.

"Sexy. Who bottoms?" Leonard asks curiously.

"I do, exclusively. In the vanilla interpretation of bottoming."

"Oh." Leonard rubs along his chin, clearly surprised. "He must be really unusual."

"Nice guy, great cock," Chris says in a low voice.

"Great or big?" his lover asks perceptively.

Chris chuckles. "Big, as in porn star big."

"Now you've got me really curious," the doc says. "You wouldn't mind me talking to him, would you?"

"Not at all, if you want to," Chris says and shrugs. The doc walks away to talk with Bjarne.

Wondering what this will lead to, Chris scratches his head.

"All good?" George asks next to him.

"I hope so," Chris says sincerely. "I really hope so."

****

For the rest of the day, Bjarne seems to be out of the doc's mind; they mostly spend it in bed (and in the shower, and on the couch). At one point Chris muses that the doc had given them both some libido boosters, but his lover denies it. Seems just seeing each other again gives them all the boost their hormones can deliver.

They don't talk a lot, though, which is a little weird, but the doc claims that he's talked himself blue in the face with a certain captain over the last months, and needs to have action now, instead of words.

Their post-coital late afternoon nap ends with an alarm, taking Chris by surprise as it signals gym time.

"I canceled all my appointments for the week," he says.

"I thought you could use one," Leonard says unfazed. "Go, your trainer is waiting."

Still confused, Chris goes to the gym. True to the doc's words, Bjarne is waiting for him.

"What are the two of you up to?" he asks two exercises into his routine.

"Nothing that should concern you right now," Bjarne says and corrects his technique. The workout is more intense than usual, pushing Chris to the limit of his current strength and endurance.

"Did he ask you to ride me really hard or something?" he groans as he's on his knees for non-sexual reasons for once, fighting for breath after the final fifty push-ups. "You're one sadistic bastard tonight."

"And, do you like it?" Bjarne asks, walking in front of him.

"Not sure," Chris mutters, but despite his exhaustion, watching Bjarne pull out his fabulous cock is an instant aphrodisiac to him, always coaxing some leftover energy out of his body.

"Suck me," Bjarne demands, trying to sound dominant and failing spectacularly.

Chris chuckles, unable to follow the order right away. "That's so strange." Then he pulls himself together, putting a hand on the inviting piece. "Sorry – I'll get to it, sir."

"No," Bjarne says suddenly and makes one step back, out of Chris' reach. "Fuck this," he mutters and pulls up his pants, then walks away to sit on a faraway bench, facing away with his back to Chris.

For a moment, Chris is unsure whether this is a part of the supposed game or a real stop of the scene, but the way Bjarne bends forward, burying his face in his hands, speaks of a stop. He gets up with slightly shaking legs, his muscles exhausted from the intense workout, and approaches the bench.

When Bjarne doesn't move, he cautiously sits down next to him, and, after another moment of waiting, puts one arm around the distressed man's shoulder.

"You want to talk about it?" Chris says quietly, because there's a story in this that weighs heavily on the man he cares for by now as a good friend, and if he can relieve him of some of the burden, he'll gladly do so.

At first, Bjarne shrugs in denial, remaining silent. But after a while, he sighs, letting his hands drop to his lap. Slightly leaning against Chris but avoiding eye contact, he starts. "You know I love to top, be the active one when it comes to fucking. But I never cared about the lifestyle; that never had anything to do with me being on top. D/s lifestyle, that is. But then I got pulled into it by a friend who became my sub. Or rather, he was a sub and decided that I'd be his perfect master, and did everything in his might to achieve that. For a while it was okay with me, I could get used to being in charge and issuing orders. But he wanted to depend more and more on me, drew me into managing our money, his days, his every minute... it was like a spider web he put up for me, and when it finally got to be too much and I wanted to get out of that relationship for sheer self-preservation, he started the threats.

"Because in his head there was only one thing left if it didn't work out, and that was killing himself. Just leaving me and living his own life seemed beyond his grasp. So he commed me the afternoon after I spoke about moving out for the first time, _Going to kill myself if you don't come home tonight_ , and of course I was shocked and ran home. But when you get such threats again and again, they lose their edge. You hate them, and you start to hate the person who sends them. I understood that he needed help but he didn't want any, and I couldn't really force him, could I? Friends of ours tried to talk to him, with no effect at all. One evening there was another threat, and I thought, _fuck it_ , and sat down in a bar and drank my head off until four in the morning.

"And when I got home, he'd done good on his threat. There was an empty pack of pills next to him on the bed and he was there in the middle, all dressed up as if for a party, and dead. I don't think he wanted to die really, and normally I would've come home in time... but not that one time."

"And I sat down on the bed and I was angry and sad and... relieved. I was relieved that at least it was over." Bjarne runs one hand across his cheek, his voice breathy. "Couldn't stay there, though. Moved out, moved on, ended up with Iro's circus. I don't know shit about what you all do here, and I don't care if you are a bunch of mafia who strip gold from dead people's hands, but signing up here was the best thing that could've happen to me."

Chris shakes his head. "We're not that bad. I think on the general scale, IXOS is doing pretty okay for a company that's not sworn to save the universe, like Starfleet is." He gently strokes Bjarne's shoulder, feeling the tension slowly ease now that the man had been able to release the weight at last.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you. Thanks for telling me. I like being with you, and we've had some pretty fantastic sex. But there's no danger of me wanting a D/s relationship with you. All my sub potential today – and trust me, it was hard for me to accept that in myself – lies with the doc. He's the one guy who's allowed to tap into it, but it took years until we were both comfortable with going there."

"He seems to be a nice guy, all in all, and I'm glad your relationship survived your move here." Bjarne hesitates. "But he's pretty possessive and domineering when it comes to you, and that's a trait that doesn't sit well with me. So I'd rather not get involved in your whole arrangement... although I agreed when he asked. I'm sorry about that, I should've known it wouldn't work out."

"What was the plan for tonight?"

"That I'd tie you to a bench and fuck you, and he'd join us after a while."

Chris imagines the scene, and it's at the same time totally hot and totally wrong, because it would have maneuvered Bjarne into a position the man never wanted to occupy. He's a bit annoyed with the doc for almost ruining this thing with Bjarne, just to demonstrate to the man who really owns Chris.

"Don't worry about it," he says to Bjarne. "It's absolutely your right to say 'No', no matter your agreement. Anyone in a scene can safeword, stop the whole thing. I'm glad you did."

"Really?"

"I'll be back in a week, and I'm egotistic enough that I want to resume our training and all those sleepover nights." Chris pulls Bjarne closer. "I think we've got a good thing going, and I'd like to keep it as it is." He meets Bjarne's eyes, slightly nervously waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I'd like to keep that too," Bjarne says, fully turning towards him. "It's good being with you." The man runs one hand around Chris' neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. They move apart when they notice the door opening, both getting up and rotating around to meet the doc's gaze.

Bjarne squeezes Chris' shoulder. "I'll leave you alone," he says quietly. "Feel free to use the place, just lock the door."

"Okay, thanks." Chris remains at the bench, letting Leonard come to him.

"Seems things didn't work as planned," the doc says when Bjarne is out of the door, a little defensive as he notices Chris' stern gaze and locked arms. 

"No, they didn't," Chris says coolly. "You know, you don't have to prove your point about owning me to my friends."

Leonard curls his lips, his hands closing to loose fists. "Didn't notice I do that."

"But you do. Iro, Bjarne – my relationship with these people is different than the one I've got with you and Jim and Dael. They're not your competition. Never have been, never will be."

"I asked him whether he'd be interested in a threesome," the doc defends himself belligerently. 

"He's a nice guy, he thought he might do me a favor, but it would've been at his own expense." Chris draws near at last, until their faces are only centimeters apart.

"What do I need to do to get that fear out of your head? How can I prove to you that you're special and there's nobody like you, not even Jim and Dael?"

Leonard deflates, his shoulders sagging. "I don't know, Chris. I know it's shitty what I do, but I'm going through these stupid moments of jealousy and I know it's fucked up. I'm the one who constantly tells Jim that it's good when Dael and you see other people too, that you feel better this way and that means that all of us are doing better, but deep down, I hate it. I'll always hate it."

" _Always_ is a pretty big word," Chris says, feeling his chest tightening. This is suddenly very dangerous ground they're on. "You're the psychologist here. I shouldn't have to tell you that you might not be able to change a situation, but you're always able to choose your reaction."

Leonard turns away, and for a terrible moment Chris wonders if his lover is walking out on him. But then Leonard looks back at him.

"You're right. _Always_ is too big, but it's a goddamn old problem for me and it's always two steps forward, one back on this subject." He stops for a moment, searching for words before adding quietly, "It even killed my marriage."

_It_ , as if it wasn't a part of the doc's own personality. If Chris loved this man any less, this damn jealousy could've been a deal breaker, but as it is that isn't an option for him at all, even when he says rather exasperated and not too nicely, "Then get some goddamn _therapy_ before you hurt any more people. It doesn't help when you're sorry after the fact, like with Dael."

The doc pales. "Don't bring her into this. I'm more than fine with her now!"

"Yes, but does it have to be the same fight about every new person in my life?" Chris sighs. "I'm not going to leave you over this – if need be, I'm willing to have these fights every single time because I love you and you're worth it. But I really care for my friends and I don't want to see them hurt by your jealousy, and if that means that any meetings between the two of us need to happen on a distant island far away from everyone else, then I'll do that."

He can see Leonard chewing on his words, a kaleidoscope of emotions fluttering over the doc's face before a reluctant smile settles.

"I'd be lying if I told you I didn't love having you all to myself on the beach. But actually I learned there that without Jim and Dael, we're both not... complete. Not as good as we could be."

"Right. And we all have our lives, and you wouldn't have come far on the _Enterprise_ if not for your crew."

"I know. Well, I already got therapy once to get a grip on my behavior towards Dael," Leonard admits. "Guess I'll go back for another round, what do you think?"

"It would definitely make some things easier," Chris agrees. He lifts one hand, and the doc mirrors his move until their fingers lace. "And I'll see that when we meet for a few days, we get lots of time to ourselves, far from everyone else." 

"I'd love that. Thank you. Sorry for being such an ass sometimes." The doc leans forward for a tentative kiss that Chris readily accepts, relief washing over both of them at the realization that they'd made it through this painful but necessary discussion without major – or even minor – damage.

"I like your ass. Sometimes I even like you _being_ an ass, but not when it hurts others," Chris whispers afterward, running his lips up the doc's chin.

"I know." Leonard sighs. "That love for you, it's still bordering on obsession at times."

"It'll get better when we move in together," Chris promises. "Over time, you'll see me in all those moments when I'm not hot, learn to hate the way I leave the bathroom or something, get annoyed with my tendency to have meetings around the clock and that I always eat the last of Tom's grapes..."

"I don't think so." Leonard pulls him close. "You're always hot to me." The erection that's suddenly pressed against Chris' hip nicely underlines the words.

Some people consider make-up sex to be the best kind of sex, and while Chris prefers sex without an emotionally challenging discussion leading up to it, burning off the heated energy between them on the two convenient mats in the middle of the gym certainly has a special intensity to it.

The next morning, Chris and Leonard are on the way to a late breakfast when they pass Bjarne on his way to the gym. Chris simply nods, but Leonard stops the trainer.

"Good morning. Sorry for having been an ass yesterday," he says. "Won't pull another such stunt, promise."

"Okay." Bjarne accepts with a nod, visibly disinclined to discuss the events any further. "I'm running late, see you around." He leaves them with quick steps.

"Guess I'm on his shit list now," Leonard says wistfully.

Chris rolls his eyes. "You apologized, he's fine with it, story over." He drags Leonard into a quiet corner of the hall where they can eat undisturbed, and where nobody sees the hand he puts on the doc's cock until his lover comes rights in his pants with a subdued moan, Bjarne's existence quite unimportant all of a sudden.

Sometimes, sex just makes everything easier.

***

Almost everything is fine between them now; there's only one thing that Chris still needs to deal with. He's reminded of that when he notices the doc's unfriendly glare at the picture frame whenever one of the drawings of Spock by Dael appears on the screen. When they have only one hour left before they need to depart to meet Jim, he decides it's a good moment to bring up the subject.

"You should get over yourself, doc," he says when he next catches the doc's reaction to a Spock portrait, and walks over to his seated lover.

Leonard frowns, instantly knowing what Chris is talking about. "I get it that he's now obviously Dael's and your best friend, but that doesn't mean he's got to be _my_ best friend. After what he did to Jim –" 

Chris sits down next to him, touching his leg. "Hold your horses, doc. It's time that you get over what happened on Delta Vega."

"And why should I?"

"Because I don't think Spock could've reacted any differently when he saw Jim."

The doc's annoyance darkens his eyes. "And why?"

"It's true, the old Spock was in a relationship with his timeline's Jim –"

"I knew it…" the doc mutters.

"– and you."

"Excuse me?" Leonard says, startled.

"He was in a threesome relationship with the two of you. He never wanted to interfere with your relationship here, he only wondered whether his younger counterpart wouldn't be happier with the two of you instead of Uhura. Once he learned that I'm your third here, though, I think he gave up on that idea."

"Both of us…" Leonard says, worrying his bottom lip. "That still doesn't excuse forcing a mind-meld on Jim."

"Imagine you ended up in another timeline where the people you loved were still alive. Would you be able to keep away from the temptation completely?"

Lowering his head, Leonard rubs his forehead. "Maybe not," he concedes after a minute with a low sigh.

"Spock is looking out for the _Enterprise_ and for all of us. When you encountered the Borg, he gave us that information. Then I was given another data rod with information on a species named the Gorn. I know that the _Enterprise_ apparently hasn't encountered them yet, but I bet Spock knows something we don't." Chris bends forward, intently pursuing the subject.

"Spock keeps apart from most people, trying not to unduly influence this timeline. I don't necessarily agree with the way he handles some of his information, but I'm not in his shoes, so it's easy to believe I'd be on higher moral grounds. In the end, Spock is a lonely old man. When he was my frequent visitor during my recovery on Luna station – you remember, after Dael saved me from the delta ray accident? "

The doc nods.

"He told me more than probably even Jim knows, about your relationship and about himself. And he said to me one of the saddest things I've ever heard, _"I keep away from them both, as much as I can. But sometimes I crave a moment of companionship. I try to keep them rare and brief."_

Leonard runs a shaky hand over his lips.

"I want this to change. I want to show Spock that he's welcome here, that he can be a part of our family, if he chooses to be."

Taking a heavy breath, Leonard nods. "I can see where you're coming from, and maybe you're right. I'm still… I don't know…"

Having learned the hard way himself with Barnett just how hard it is to overcome long-cultivated antipathies, Chris says, "I know it won't be easy on you." He places his hand on his lover's cheek to pull him into a gentle kiss. "But it will be worth it."

"If you say so," Leonard mutters half-heartily. They exchange a few more kisses before Leonard leans back on the armrest with another sigh.

"Well, well. I think we need to leave soon, so why don't you get packed?" he says to Chris, visibly in need of a moment to himself. Willing to give him that, Chris packs.

Half an hour later, they're walking into the small Starfleet area.

"Aren't we supposed to meet Jim here?" Chris asks, looking around without seeing their third. The doc doesn't answer, only steers them through a control point where they don't even check Chris' ID, and finally leads him into a transporter room, directing him onto a beam spot.

"Ready?" the doc says, grinning brightly.

"Where are we..." Chris starts, but then he is already dissolving.

When they rematerialize, he's too star-struck to finish his question.

***

"Welcome to the _Enterprise_ , Sir," chief engineer Scott says with a broad grin. "The captain has been held up, so please join him on the bridge."

Chris stares at him.

"Come on, Admiral, lead the way – I know you remember it." The doc pushes him a little, so Chris finally steps off the platform with slightly weak legs.

After answering Scott's hearty handshake, Chris walks into the corridor. Of course he knows the way, but he's still reeling in – at least a happy – shock.

"You could've told me," he whispers at the doc as they walk along. Crew members snap to attention as they pass, some exchanging a few words with him, welcoming Admiral Pike, uttering their regrets about his resignation, congratulating him on his obviously restored health. Chris replies in a constant flow of _at ease, you're welcome, it was time, thank you_ as they make their way towards the bridge.

"We wanted to surprise you, and it worked," Leonard says unapologetically as they take the turbolift to the top level. "Knowing you, you'd probably have found some stupid excuse not to come up here."

Chris frowns but has to concede that he might've done that.

When the doors soundlessly slide open, he holds his breath. It's a fantastic view on the screen, the outside of the station facing the stars and nearby planets. Not even the view on the bridge of the _Arrivo_ comes close to this.

The captain's chair rotates, revealing Jim who brightly smiles at him.

"Admiral on the bridge!" a nearby junior officer exclaims, and everyone jumps to their feet – and starts applauding.

Chris feels his face heating up under the welcoming sound and the cheerful faces, old and new, looking at him. "Thank you. At ease, gentlemen." He needs to repeat it twice before the bridge crew stops clapping.

"Welcome to the _Enterprise_ , sir. It's an honor to have you here at last," Jim says, but then dilutes the military style welcome by drawing him close and putting a slight kiss onto his cheek.

"The honor is all mine, captain. And the surprise, too," Chris can't help saying.

"After weighing the alternatives, surprising you was the logical solution," Spock says as he approaches him. "I am delighted to find you in good health, sir."

"Thanks partly to you," Chris says, remembering how it'd been Spock who'd solved the mystery of his second break-down by finding the theta wave generator.

He shakes hands with more of the bridge crew, before Jim steps out of the chair.

"Please, take a seat."

"Jim." Chris flushes a deeper red. "That's your chair."

"Yes, but I don't see a problem with you taking a seat for a short while," Jim says. "Some little bird told me that you renewed your license, so I know you're fully able and qualified to command this ship."

"That's completely against regulations."

"Oh." Jim feigns surprise. "Well, we won't tell if you won't. And if you're concerned about the bridge cams and logging, I fear we've got a small technical problem at the moment – right, Scotty?"

"Absolutely right, sir," Scotty says, waving a little piece of circuitry in his hand.

As if in a dream, Chris takes two steps to the chair, then slowly lowers himself into the seat. The bridge has changed from back then, but not by a lot. The Enterprise is still as beautiful and perfect as she looked in her first active mission, and he reverently touches the console to his left.

"Sulu is waiting for your command, sir," Jim says next to him.

"Are we cleared to go?" Chris asks.

"Yes, sir," Sulu answers him, a bright smile on his face. "All thrusters ready, destination set."

"Well, then – punch it," Chris says. It doesn't quite sound as self-confident as back then, but he thinks he's excused… he'd never even dared to dream that one day he'd be back in this very chair.

"I took that from you, by the way," Jim says.

Chris looks at him. "What?"

"The _punch it_ line. It's powerful – and sexy," he says, then adds a little more quietly, but still loud enough for everyone to hear, "Just like you are."

"Brat," Chris mutters under his breath, then clamps his fingers around Jim's offered hand, clutching it.

***

They stay on the bridge for half an hour until they're well underway, then the three of them go off duty.

"This way," Jim says, showing him to the next turbolift. They don't stop at the level of the captain's quarters, as Chris would've expected; instead, they ride all the way up to the top level of the saucer section. Once there, they lead him down some mostly empty corridors that he doesn't recognize.

"This area was remodeled in the last overhaul," Jim answers his unvoiced question. "It got turned into our _Spa and Recreation_ area," he adds and twinkles.

"Yeah, sure," Chris says, not believing it.

"Really. I know you tried to put something like that in the very first draft of the _Enterprise_ design but it didn't pass the boards. This time around, I used a little extra leverage and we were able to implement what you'd always planned for her."

A woman in a bathrobe, with wet hair and slippers on her bare feet, comes out of one door and passes them on the way to another one, with a silent smile and nod towards the ship's commanding officers and their guest. It's the peculiar, hushed atmosphere of all saunas and similar locations where humans are in close company with little clothes on that proves Jim's words more than anything else.

But that's not their final destination – they lead him even further through the ship, passing the emergency door into the next section until they stand in front of the very last door on this side of the deck.

"Guess where we are," the doc says, and Chris shakes his head with a small, excited laugh. "I've got no fucking clue but I sure hope it's worth the long walk."

"Ta-daa," Jim says and opens the door. The room behind is medium-sized for a ship, and rather dark. Once Chris walks across the threshold, though, he realizes that it's not dark as in _closed room dark_ , but dark as in the _darkness of space_. The whole outer side of the room looks transparent, displaying space outside of the ship.

"A projection?" he asks roughly.

"No, the real thing," Leonard says, with a very light but audible shudder in his voice. "Nothing but a layer of transparent aluminium and a force field between us and the void."

A shudder of its own, but one of pure delight, rushes through Chris. Weird that it makes such a psychological difference whether it's an image or the real, endless space out there, but it does. He walks towards the wall, placing both hands on it. It's slightly cool – not because the insulation is poor, but because studies had shown that Humans preferred to have this resemblance to and illusion of a real glass window.

They're a weird species, sometimes.

"Do you like it?" Jim whispers in his left ear, as warm hands settle on his hips. The captain's lips follow swiftly, trailing small kisses and nips along his neck.

"Between the bridge and this… it's incredible. You are incredible." Chris turns around, pulling Jim into an embrace for their first true, deep welcome kiss, in comparison to the peck they had in sight of the bridge crew.

"I almost can't believe that this is all real," he says when he's more in command of his voice again.

There's a flicker of tension on Leonard's face, and it makes Chris add hastily, "I'm fine, doc. I know very well that this is real. Sorry for my figure of speech."

"Good," Leonard says. "Guess it will feel even more real when you've had something to eat."

Jim takes his hand, leading him to a small round table. On a white table cloth, there are three plates made of fine china with silver cutlery and tall glasses framing them, blue and white ribbons running between the three place settings. In the middle, beautiful flowers in a matching light blue provide a focus without being so tall as to block the guests' from seeing each other. Tea lights that the doc must've lit just now sparkle in the space-dark of the room, their flames bathing the scene with a feeling of comfort that was bred into humanity through millennia of evolution.

It's _perfect_.

Suddenly, Chris feels overwhelmed, clutching one fist to his hip and trying to breathe more steadily. For what feels far longer than it probably lasts, he teeters dangerously close to his inner walls snapping up on him for protection; then he ropes them in and raises them a little by himself, to be on the safe side.

"It's awesome," he says, more flat and toneless than intended, and he notes Jim's face falling just a little. "It's the most romantic place I've ever been invited to… with the most fabulous men I've ever met." Trying to make up for his emotional failure, he pulls Jim close again, conveying his gratitude and love by touch rather than by words, relieved when the doc joins them too, drawing his strong arms around them both. They stay like this for a moment, then finally gear up for the actual dinner, the doc to his left, Jim to his right.

Five fabulous courses and two glasses of wine later, Chris can barely stay in his seat anymore. They've talked a lot – though not about their missing fourth, thankfully – and touched and joked and fed each other and by now he's so terribly turned on, flushed from head to toe and existing in that wonderous land of arousal that surpasses the physical. His hands are spread out left and right, touching their legs just to keep in contact, so needy and craving.

Thankfully, they seem to be in a similar state, and so they soon wrap up the dinner. He'd love to remain in this room, but there's nothing but the stars, this table arrangement and the tea wagon that by now contains only empty plates and another, unopened bottle of wine.

He should've known that he was in for more surprises. The two men empty the room, placing everything outside in the corridor.

"It will be taken care of," Jim says, directing Chris to stand close to the door. "And now… the grand finale." He pushes a button, and the wall to the right of the picture window to space pulls up… unfolding a gigantic, knee-high bed that soon covers almost the whole room.

"It's the _Enterprise_ 's wedding suite," Jim says, beaming upon seeing Chris' this time truly unbridled delight at this sight.

"Originally, we'd hoped we would be able to show this room to both of you, but that obviously didn't pan out," Jim adds a little more somberly, for a second unable to hide the underlying disappointment he feels about Dael's complete radio silence.

"You make that sound as if we're not absolutely happy about having Chris here," the doc admonishes his husband.

"I know exactly what Jim means. I wish she had shown up, or at least left a message. But on the other hand…" Chris reaches out for both of them, running his hands over their asses. "On the other hand, I'm a greedy bugger and I'm just so happy to have both of you all to myself tonight, and I want to make love to you until I pass out from exhaustion." He kisses first Jim, then the doc, slipping his tongue into each man's mouth as deep and wet as possible, enjoying the traces of the sweet dessert that softens the wine's sharper nuances. The way Jim melts under his touch is so telling… Chris would show him just how much he's sorry for everything that had happened – and once again, he wouldn't do it in words.

Breaking free a little, he says, "Sit down on the bed, Jim."

A little hesitantly, Jim sits down. His confusion intensifies as Chris gets down on his knees in front of him, running his hands along the captain's clad legs.

On the doc's face that Chris can see from the corner of one eye, there's a knowing, appreciative smile.

"Let me take care of you for a while," he says to Jim. 

"Actually we wanted to take care of you, being our guest and all…"

Chris captures one of Jim's hands, putting a kiss onto his palm. "I'm fine, haven't been so fine for months, and it's time to give something back to you."

"For what, being an obstinate ass?" Jim says defensively.

"For the hurt," Chris says, looking up from Jim's hand. He reaches out, running his thumb over Jim's bottom lip. "For making you feel like we left you behind, which we never wanted."

Jim inhales a little shakily, the young man's guards visibly coming down even further. The already emotionally intense evening is taking a toll on everyone's control, and Chris realizes that he can't draw this out for too long, or they might fall apart before they'd resolved the tension of the past months.

"Let me take care of you, please," Chris begs, and that makes Jim nod, accept his offer. He bends down, starting to unlace Jim's boots to remove them, then proceeds with the pants, then up to the uniform and the undershirt until his lover is completely naked, beautifully spread out on the bed. When Chris moves to undress himself, the doc captures his arm.

"Let me do that," Leonard whispers and so they give Jim a show of their own as the doc peels him out of his clothes – too many layers, he hadn't been sure of the temperature on board, and he still often feels cold for no good reason. But there's no chance of freezing right now; instead the room feels overheated, hot and steamy on a level that has little to do with the real temperature and all with Jim's eyes on his body and the doc's fingers on his skin, caressing his chest. They tease his nipples on the way, as if he weren't aroused and hard enough already again.

"You look marvelous," Jim says. "I mean, you always do, but well…" he quickly adds, flushing a little.

Chris chuckles, raising and flexing his arms to show off his biceps and the – for his age – quite acceptable six pack. "Hey, I put a lot of work into these muscles, I can totally accept the compliment. Thank you!"

"And many after-hours with his trainer," the doc adds.

"He must be great," Jim says with a smile.

"Not as great as you," Chris says, absolutely wanting to get them away from that subject. Tonight is about the three of them, no need for anyone else in their bed, not even Dael.

He gets onto the mattress, crouching over Jim's prone form on all fours. "Because I love you, so much." Placing kisses along Jim's collarbone, he utters more such words, trying to underline his feelings with every means he's got at his disposal right now, his voice, mouth, hands, even his legs that press against Jim's, touching his lover at every possible point.

Jim sighs into his administrations, running his hands up Chris' flanks. "You feel so good. Love you too."

The doc joins them, and Chris moves so that they end up lying to the left and right of Jim.

"Sure that you don't want to get into the middle?" Jim offers again.

"No, I think you're just perfect where you are," the doc says, draping his leg over Jim's. Again, Chris mirrors his movements. Within seconds, they have Jim spread out on the bed, holding his arms above his head and locking his legs to spread them to the sides. The arrangement still leaves two hands for fondling their very excited victim – and aside from that, there's a cute nipple close to Chris' mouth and he darts out his tongue, lapping at the inviting flesh. Jim moans, then becomes unexpectedly louder. Chris turns his head, noticing that the doc is fisting Jim's erect member.

He's not sure where they are heading, but he knows what he'd prefer – either something focused on Jim, or something that would involve all three of them at the same time. Looking at the bed, a position spontaneously comes to his mind – and on this large space, it should work out.

"How about a blowjob triangle?" he suggests in a low voice. "The three of us in a circle, sucking each other off at the same time."

"Sounds great," Leonard says.

"Whatever you want, as long as I get to come. Damn, this has been a really long evening!" Jim sighs as they release him, despite his words apparently a little unwilling to leave this cozy bondage situation.

When they reposition, there's a brief discussion of who's sucking whom, but Chris insists on giving Jim his blowjob, so that settles it.

Leaning down on one elbow and bowing forward to find the best angle to approach Jim's tasty erection, Chris takes his time pressing kisses all over Jim's groin and upper leg. Once in a while he needs to stop as the doc forces a moan out of his own throat, addressing Chris' groin quite as eagerly. They play around for a little longer, until Chris just can't bear it anymore – bowing forward, he opens his mouth and takes in all of Jim's hard cock, easily adjusting to its size even when Jim automatically pushes upwards, shoving the member in even more deeply. Pulling back a little, Chris sucks up and down the shaft, once in a while rising up until his lips barely cover the glans, teasing the slit with his tongue. The sounds, the taste, the feelings that the doc's actions between his own legs evoke, everything coming together in a kaleidoscope of love…

Deep in the graveyard shift, they finally make it to the captain's quarters,

***

After sleeping in until midday, the next afternoon is spent on more sex that wrings what feels like the last available drop of semen out of Chris' body.

Afterward, they just lie there for awhile, a glorious pile of sweaty, sticky men, kissing and caressing each other in turn. Then they move at last, roll over and unlace.

"You're incredible," Chris mutters as he ends on his back between them.

"Thank you, same to you," Jim says and drops another kiss onto his lips. "Let's go take a shower. There's a small gathering in the rec room in an hour that we should attend."

"Collective we?" Chris asks.

"Yes," the doc answers. "Once certain people learned that you'd come onboard, they were determined to throw a party."

"Gathering… party… grows by the second."

"Well, you know how that works on ships. Every reason is a good reason for a party."

"Fine. I'm game."

"Cool. They'll be delighted." Jim leaves the bed. "The shower is too small for more than two, so I'll go ahead." He bounces to the bathroom, and seconds later the sound of a sonic shower is audible.

"You can get a water shower too, if you prefer that," Leonard says.

Chris shrugs. "Fine with both options." Moving around, he curls around Leonard for another kiss. "Love you, doc. Thanks for bringing me here, it was a great idea."

"I'm glad you think so."

The party is already in full swing when they arrive, and for the first hour, almost everyone who crosses Chris' path has some words with him. It's great to be welcomed like this, but it also wears him out a little. After a while, he retreats into a quiet corner to relax for a moment.

"May I...?" a female voice asks, and he turns to find Uhura.

"Always, Lieutenant," he says.

"Call me Nyota, please," she offers, and puts two drinks on a high bar table in front of them. "Aldebaran Sunrise, non-alcoholic," Nyota says. "I hope that's to your taste."

"Yes, thanks. And I'm Chris." They clink glasses.

"I've got to confess something – sometimes it feels as if I've become part of your tribe," she says. "Leonard and I have spoken a lot during the last several months."

"I can imagine," Chris says. "I'm glad you were here for him, thanks for that."

"And I'm glad that you are here now – just look at their faces. They're so relieved and proud to finally have you here onboard. It hasn't been easy for them, especially for Jim. Of course, being the captain he did his best to hide it, but we're his family – we know."

"Of course." He sips from the cocktail.

"Now there's only one thing that still weighs heavily on him – and that's Dael's absence. Have you heard anything from her lately?"

"No, but I trust Spock will contact us if anything goes wrong. As long as he thinks she'll come around on her own, I trust his instincts."

Nyota smiles. "My Spock wouldn't even want anyone to know that he's got instincts."

He smiles back. "Well, no idea what our Spock would think about the wording, but as you know, this kind of challenging situation doesn't come with a perfect action plan."

"No, it doesn't," she says. "But I'm sure she will come around."

"Yes, she will," Chris says, but feeling less sure about it than ever.

He's glad when the doc draws near to them with a big smile on his face, signaling that the three men had fulfilled their quota of expected party participation and could now retreat to the couple's quarters again.

The prospect of more great sex on the horizon, Chris's mood lifts.

***

Despite another night of intense activity and being off duty for their last day together too, his men are up very early. Waking up to an empty bed and quiet quarters, Chris gets out of bed, wondering what they're up to.

When he reaches the bathroom, he abruptly stops in the doorway, struck by the picture his men make, freshly showered, still with a shine of water on their lovely bodies, kissing each other. It's one of those _Jim &Bones_ moments that Chris adores and can never get enough of (despite their potential to make him feel excluded, but that's mostly vanished over the years).

"Don't move," he says as they turn towards him.

"Hmmm?"

"You are… just beautiful." Chris takes two steps forward, then sinks down on his knees. Reaching out with both hands, he strokes the half-erect members that smell of nothing but shower gel at this moment. He's got every intention of changing that.

"Whoa," Jim mutters, leaning a little more against the doc, and then gasps as Chris slides forward and takes Jim's cock into his mouth.

He can feel them watching him from above as he sets about his work of licking and sucking and fondling, soon switching to the doc for the same, feeling their erections growing in his hands and mouth as he starts oscillating between the two, bringing them together, licking both heads next to each other. His lovers' breathing gets more audible as he commences his loving attack, adoring how the men turn to putty in his hands while their cocks turn hard and eager, their slits giving up the first drop of the juice he's after, the smell changing from shower to quintessentially _male_. Their hands reach down, caressing his head while he keeps working.

"Damn, that's like in that porn we watched," the doc mutters as he looks up at them at last, his mouth wet and hungry for more, his hands layered around the two hard cocks, aligning them towards each other and his lips. 

"I'd really love to try something," Chris says. "Been thinking about it for a while, but never had the guts until now…" Out of the blue, he feels like a damn teenager, too tongue-tied to ask for that particular act.

"What is it?" Leonard asks.

Jim suddenly smiles. "Not having the guts quite literally, hmm? You're thinking about double penetration? Getting in a sandwich between us?"

Chris nods. "Yes."

The two stare at him… and then it's the blush that creeps up at Leonard's neck that gives it away.

"You've been thinking about that too?" Chris asks.

"Well, yeah, in some wild fantasies," the doc admits. "It's logical, isn't it? Besides, we once had that with a guy."

"Oh." Chris deflates a little. How presumptuous to think he'd be their first.

"At least, we tried, but it didn't really work out. The guy was too tight, and when we finally got somewhere, it was just… well, more weird than hot. But the scene sparked some interesting ideas for our sessions. "

Jim leans over to Chris, adding conspiratorially, "And we always knew that with you, it would be great."

"You haven't tried it yet." Chris gets to his feet.

Jim chuckles. "I only saw a tiny glimpse of your plug play vids, but even I know that our dicks aren't that big."

They move to the bed where they arrange themselves in the presumably best position for their undertaking – Jim on his back, Chris above him on all fours, the doc behind him. With Chris' current level of training, the first steps of preparations barely deserve the name, the _one-two-three_ _fingers_ ceremony more out of habit than for practical reasons.

"How many?" Leonard jokes when he's got four fingers inside of Chris.

Chris snorts. "Don't play around with me, man!" But then he can feel getting stretched to the widest point of his lover's hand again and again until the hand slips in fully at last, curling inside of him. His muscle contracts around the doc's wrist, and he whimpers against Jim's chest, vaguely aware of the younger man's relentless caresses.

" _You're doing great, that's so hot…_ " There's a flow of words in his ears, penetrating the white noise in his head.

The hand slowly pulls out again, making him wince. "It's only a warm up," the doc says, adding teasingly, "Shouldn't be a problem, should it?" 

"Not really," Chris presses out, although the plug's smooth, optimal surface feels very different from the rough form of a hand. It still kicks him incredibly hard, the way the doc takes all of this for granted and takes everything he's got to offer while still pushing him a little harder. The hand drives in again, stretching him wider than before. Once inside, it's like the doc has a handle on him, forcing him a little forward towards Jim. Jim grabs his head and pulls him into a deep kiss. Fingers run along his still rather soft dick, stroking along his length. It hardens only a little, unlike Jim's stiff member that nudges against his groin.

"Sorry, cock-blocked…" Chris murmurs when Jim releases his mouth.

"I know, no problem." Placing kisses along his chin, Jim adds in a hushed tone, "Can't wait to get inside of you, Chris, this is going to be so awesome."

"Yes." Chris gasps when the hand is pulled out again.

"Jim first," the doc says from behind, helping them to align into the optimal position. Stretched like tonight, Jim's erection slips in without resistance as Chris sits down on it.

"Whoa, you're really wide… that's good…" Jim mutters, one hand still on Chris' soft dick. Closing his eyes, Chris enjoys the situation, the intense mental eroticism that transcends the physical by far. He can feel a finger or two testing the ground for more, making Jim moan from the contact.

"Go on, doc," Chris says breathlessly, leaning forward until he's covering Jim's body, his weight resting on his arms and Jim's chest. His younger lover's arms curl around him, holding him tight as the doc's hands spread his cheeks, aiming for the second penetration.

Despite all his training, the first push is more painful than Chris had expected, and he moans against Jim's chest.

"Too much?" Jim asks in a concerned whisper, but then the first burn is already gone, and Chris shakes his head.

"No. Go ahead…"

"Okay," the doc says behind him and leans forward, slowly pushing inside with the weight of his body. The steady press takes Chris' breath away – it feels weird, but also utterly _possessed_. At last in the middle, claimed by both, owned by both, and then they move together, or the doc moves, mostly, pulling half-out and pushing in again, riding both Jim and him...

Chris goes with the flow, his emotions so wild and unspeakable that he doesn't know what to do with them, the intensity of this moment adding together with every intense moment of the last days, the memories of the wedding room and the stars and their dinner for three, the kisses and laughter and every touch full of joy and the doc's hands on his sides and Jim's lips on his ear and the words he longed to hear the gasps he wants to drink the love the love…

...and in this wrong, wrong moment, his mind decides that it knows what's best for him, and every single emotion is drained from him as his walls rush up so hard that he blanks out for a moment. He returns to a world of pale lights and distant noises, the walls, so unwanted this time, high and impenetrable between him and the world outside.

Flatlined.

The others don't notice right away, too close to their peaks, and keep moving into him in abandon until they climax. Only in the aftermath do they slowly realize his impassivity.

"Chris?" he notes Jim's voice, the concern dampened by the distance it comes from. "Everything okay?"

Through the walls, he vaguely feels the doc pulling out. Once he's got some room to maneuver, he crouches up on his knees and scrambles away from them, half falling out of bed in his rush. Pulling himself to his feet, he shakily walks out of the bedroom and into the anteroom, but there isn't really any place to go, he can't leave the cabin without his clothes, and he can't leave them, not without explanation…

He feels trapped, and that only shuts down everything even harder.

At last he leans forward with eyes closed, forehead and hands against the wall, like the inner walls he'd just hit. There's panic somewhere deep, deep down but it's flat and out of all colors and like a dead, stiff body.

He can hear them whisper; then there is only silence for a moment until they move.

They will join him.

He'll have to say _something_.

They are so close already. They don't touch him, though, and that's good.

"It's okay," Leonard says quietly. "Don't run. Everything's okay. We just want to know what happened in there. What went wrong?"

"I won't run," Chris mutters. "Can't run anymore."

"You don't need to. Just talk to us, please. What happened? Did we do anything... wrong?"

Chris turns around, keeping his back flat against the wall, his arms tight to his sides. He tries to face them, but his world is washed-out, making them look like cartoon figures. Who knew that good feelings could be more challenging than the worst ones of the last few months?

"My emotions left the healthy range, my alarm went off, and I got shut down."

"Huh?" Jim says.

"You mean, it was too much of a good thing?" Leonard asks after a moment.

"Yes."

"You could've warned us," Jim says with a frown.

"No. I didn't know this could happen. It was just… like you tapped an emotional off-switch." Finding that they don't blame him for ruining everything, only want to know what makes him tick, Chris relaxes a little. "It almost happened in the wedding room too, but I could stop it back then. But this time, it was too fast."

Jim chews on that. "So you're living in a range of allowed emotions now or what? Like the safety threshold of a machine?"

"Basically yes."

"Damn. May I…?" Jim asks, reaching out for him. Leonard stands a little aside, watching them.

"Yes."

Jim puts one hand on Chris' shoulder, touching it gently. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Chris asks nonplussed.

"Bones tried to explain it to me, but I didn't get it. I kept thinking of Spock, but his limits are self-imposed and don't even always work, my bad influence and all... but for you, it's truly like a brake in your head, right? Partly under your control but not always?"

"Yes, exactly."

Jim draws closer, cradling his second hand around the side of Chris' neck. "I just took your new strength for granted. I didn't realize that it came at such a price."

Chris leans a little into the touch. "It's worth it. Most of the time, it's absolutely worth it. But today… I'm sorry. It felt too good, too abundant."

Jim slightly shakes his head as he tightens his embrace. "First guy ever to apologize for the great time he's given us."

"But I ruined the fun –" Chris says blankly.

"Not at all," Leonard says sternly, placing his arms around both their shoulders. "I don't know where you've been the last half an hour but I had awesome sex and I totally think that once we've found out how to stop your protection mechanisms from overreacting, we should repeat that as soon as possible."

"What he says," Jim agrees. "Nobody's fault, and even if it happens again, next time we'll know what it's about. I was so worried that we'd hurt you somehow."

"You didn't," Chris says, noticing how the colors were coming back as his walls withdrew very slowly. While he doesn't exactly want to repeat this kind of sharply interrupted scene, the intensity before had been truly awesome and would be worth another flare up of his self-defenses. Still in need of some time to himself, he withdraws from the embrace. "Give me a minute to shower?" he asks. He can see in the eyes of his lovers that they want something more, some words of emotional connection, but he can't deliver that right away. They let him go, the doc walking him to the bathroom door as if in fear of him falling.

"I'm okay," Chris says as they're in it. "It's not like a stroke. I won't fall apart in the shower."

"Okay." Leonard nods. "Just don't lock the door."

"I never lock bathroom doors," Chris says, faking a smile he doesn't feel yet.

Ten minutes later, the smile is more real when he walks out of the bathroom into the rearranged quarters, the bed made and a cup of coffee waiting for him on the table.

"Bones will be right back, got a call," Jim says, seated all dressed at the other end of the table with a cup of his own. 

Chris gets dressed before joining the captain. They sit in silence for a moment before Jim cautiously says, "Can I ask you some more questions about your reaction?"

"Sure."

"This kind of emotional – safeguard?" Jim asks, unsure about the term, and Chris nods to show that he's fine with the wording. "This kind of safeguard – does Dael have that too?"

Taken by surprise, Chris avoids Jim's eyes when answering, "You'll need to ask her yourself." Which basically says it all, but he's tired of the few remaining lies between them.

Jim nods. "I think I finally understand. It's just not something I ever thought about, despite the shitty things that happened to me when I was young." He ponders for a moment. "I think I need my pain. I want it. It made me who I am. It's a part of my strength."

Chris hums. "I see where you're coming from, and would've agreed with you for the longest time. But then my breakdown happened, and I had to learn that something really did break deep inside of me and couldn't be fixed. I really hope that you and the doc don't ever experience such a situation."

"And that's why you understand Dael so well, because she experienced a similar breakpoint?"

"Somehow, I always see it the other way round, that her experiences made her understand _me_ so much better. But yeah, I guess our similar experiences helped us both."

Jim reaches out, lacing their fingers over the table. "Thank you. I think I really learned something important tonight, and I'm going to talk to Dael."

"She probably won't be happy with me for speaking about it. I guess she thought you'd like her less because of it."

"Well, do you feel less for it?" Jim asks.

"Sometimes, yes," Chris admits. "Like tonight, but there have been other moments when I know that the range of my emotions is, well, cut-off."

"You feel disabled?"

Chris shrugs. "Most of the time, I feel well and whole. But sometimes I remember that my wellbeing depends on a shitload of medication and a Borg implant in my head, and feeling whole depends on the safety structures someone else put in my mind so that it doesn't self-destruct."

"Don't we all have our weaknesses?" Jim asks. "I know that when I don't have Bones nearby, I just don't…. function well. I know we're borderline co-dependent at times, but it works for us. It's still a bit of an emotional crutch."

Chris really doesn't feel like pointing out that there's a large difference between a crutch and a life-support system, so he just walks over to pull Jim into a wordless hug.

Jim puts a kiss on his cheek. "I'll take you both anyway, if that's okay by you. I love you, and I'd rather have you share this with me than to keep it from me. I want to understand you – and it makes everything easier for me."

"I know, and she'll get that one day."

"I hope so." Jim sighs, drawing away. "How about some food? We could meet Bones in the mess hall – that is, if you feel like mingling some more with the crew."

"That'll be fine," Chris says, more relaxed about the prospect than the evening before. His walls still a little up, he combs through his hair while Jim gets into uniform. Maybe Chris has a little fetish for 'fleet dress but he totally thinks that the Captain of the Enterprise looks every bit the title.

"You look awesome," Jim addresses him when they're ready to leave, running an appreciating hand along Chris' ass.

Chris smiles. "I just wanted to say the same." He leans forward and gently kisses his lover. "Thanks for everything, Jim."

"Thanks for still being with us. It means more to us than you'll ever know," Jim answers, pulling Chris into another kiss.

Throat tight, Chris nods wordlessly, glad to exchange the emotionally loaded atmosphere for that of the utterly relaxing, unloaded noise of the mess hall.

***

The remaining hours pass at the speed of light, and so they stand, much too soon, in the transporter room to part again.

"It was wonderful being with you, Chris," Jim says as he pulls him into a last embrace, gearing up for the necessary parting. "I just wish..."

"She'll show up again," Chris says, although he isn't too sure about it himself anymore. Given these wonderful days with the three of them, though, he's at least sure that with or without Dael, they're bound to stay together. Their love is just too good to fail, as a poet might say. The thought is both touching as well as emotionally challenging, and he raises his walls just a little to be on the safe side. No need to get all teary within the sight of the crewman at the console.

"Love you, Jim. Love you, Leonard," he says, his hands laced with each. "We'll talk to each other very soon. Take care."

"We will," Leonard says. They had their more emotional goodbye earlier in their quarters, which Chris is glad of. "Have a good flight and give my best to your friends. All of them." He twinkles.

"Yes." Chris tears himself away from his lovers and walks onto the platform.

"Godspeed, Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy."

"Godspeed, Admiral Pike," Jim says, and then "Energize".

Chris feels his body dissolving, then reappearing on the beam platform of the Callisto Starfleet areal. When he walks out towards the corridor, he's greeted by an unexpected one-man welcoming committee.

"Heard you need a cab," George says, lacing one arm into his. Considering that Iro's husband is the least touchy-feely person Chris knows, this translate to fanfares and French kissing.

"Did you fear I wouldn't find my way back?" Chris asks, surprised and more than a little touched.

"Better safe than sorry," George says unmoved. "We're a little pressured for time, so let's get moving." The man ushers him towards the next hangar where they quickly take their seats in a waiting IXOS high-speed shuttle, piles of electronic documents that were waiting for Chris keeping him busy all the way to the starship they need for their journey.

***

All in all, most things go well for Chris for the time being. He enjoys the space flight with the _Arrivo_ , sometimes joining S'n B'rl on the bridge and being allowed to take over a beta shift. Over the days, he regularly confers with Yamamoto and Tscho about the IXOS academy, always sure that even if Hiro didn't like some sensible suggestion, Adlin would be able to bring the old man around. In the remaining time, Iro drags him into quite a few meetings with executives of other trade organizations, which hones Chris' slightly rusty debating skills.

In his private life, there are many little messages swapped back and forth with his wonderful men, and Bjarne also joins him in his bed once in a while, although a lot less than before. Having been able to spend time with his lovers has given Chris another taste of his true desires, and _just a round of sex_ holds less interest in comparison, even if said sex is still hot.

The one thing that concerns him is the absolute silence from the _Nautilus_. For three weeks now, there's been no reply at all to their messages, neither from Dael nor from Spock. In growing concern, he finally walks into the IXOS ops on the middle deck of the _Arrivo_. It's not like he can't use these facilities, one of the largest private networks in the quadrant, for his cause – he just didn't want to, for the longest time. But now he wants to find out what happened.

The room itself is rather dark, most of the greenish light coming from gigantic screens and projectors that display thousands bits of information on the IXOS fleet and every other interesting movement in the quadrant.

"Can I help you, Chris?" one of the operators asks as he sees him.

"Hello, Mrazri," Chris greets the young Trill with whom he'd had an interesting discussion about the technical challenges of sub-space buoys just the evening before. "I'm looking for a ship. It's transporting friends of mine, and we've lost contact with them. I'm not sure you can help me, as it's a small, civilian vessel, but maybe…"

"I'm sure we can find out something," Mrazri says instantly, looking excited and challenged to prove the installation's ability. Chris offers him the unique ship ID of the _Nautilus_ , and only seconds later, something pops up in bright red on one of the screens. With just a flick of his wrist, Mrazri moves that part of the star map to the screen in front of them and then enlarges the trail.

Chris can see the route; recognizes the area of Khal'kohachi, and the very strange, serpentine route that the ship took to Galan VI.

And then the trail ends, just like that.

"How old is the last signal?" he asks, mouth dry.

"Eighteen days," Mrazri says.

"Any idea what happened?"

Mrazri pushes a few buttons, adds some quiet voice commands using his little headset. Additional information pops up on the screen, populations of dots in a color coding that Chris can't interpret.

"The red dots are armed conflicts; the yellow dots are other reported events in space, like meteor showers, unexpected solar flares and such."

They look at the map together.

"None of it seems to have happened in their area," Chris concludes.

"No. Which of course doesn't mean that they couldn't have had a technical problem, a warp core overload or something." Suddenly remembering that this is about friends of Chris, Mrazri quickly adds, "On the other hand, if they had changed their trajectory and left the standard routes…." He mutters another command and on the screen, a light green line slopes into an empty area of that sector, "…then their signal might not have been tracked for a while."

"Yes, maybe," Chris says, running one hand over his face. Knowing Spock, he's also sure that the Vulcan could make the whole ship practically invisible by turning off any traceable signal. But why would Spock do that?

Chris turns his attention inward. Despite the less than encouraging news of the _Nautilus_ ' disappearance, his heart says that Dael is still alive and out there. Of course, this is a sadly esoteric source of knowledge and his reliance on it might have more to do with wishful than with rational thinking, but it's what he feels in his depths. She is out there, and he is still waiting for her to come back.

But for the first time ever, he wonders whether he should put some time limit on that waiting… months, years?

He can't. He'd meant it when he'd said he'd wait forever.

***

When thinking back to their bombastically failed mission later, Chris couldn't help wonder whether he would've noticed any problematic aspects in the briefing notes if he hadn't been so occupied with his personal life.

As it is, however, he beams down with Iro and another ten members of the circus to a bright-looking planet called Ommm without any misgivings. The name makes it sound like heaven for Buddhists, he thinks amusedly as their small group is led along the way to the government building, a nicely paved path through beautiful gardens.

There's a banquet for their trade delegation, with the highest ranks of government and local companies joining them for the meal. Both IXOS and Ommm have a strong interest in increasing their collaborations, and this is a nice start to their negotiations that should end with a new contract.

It's halfway through the meal when a strange feeling rushes through Chris, one that he hasn't experienced in a long time... the feeling of impeding danger. Looking over his shoulder, it takes only a fraction of a second to see the weapon trained at him – no, on _Iro._

Decades of 'fleet training rush back to him as he acts.

"Get down," he snaps and pushes Iro so hard that his friend falls from the chair. A moment later, the projectile smashes the seat's back, hits a glass of wine and ends in the chest of the man who'd been seated opposite to them, killing him instantly. For a fraction of a second, everything seems to run in slow motion… Iro's shocked expression, the bright red on the table… then the room explodes into action.

***

Iro had never been that impressed by Chris before. Of course, he'd known about his friend's illustrious career, but having gotten to know Admiral Christopher Pike after his professional peak had left Iro with the vague idea that his friend had mostly been a paper pusher.

Now he almost can't believe how blind he had been. At the first moment of danger, Chris had launched into action, his air of command making everyone follow his tersely uttered, but still unagitated orders. The man had single-handedly saved his life and the lives of the accompanying circus members, none of whom had ever been in a fight like this.

It's clear that ending up barricaded in a cellar room wasn't an ideal outcome in Chris' opinion, but it'd been the only alternative. Aside from a few Ommmians who'd been a part of the minister's guard and have their own weapons, most of their group are unarmed; they could never have made their way out of the building.

Walking over to his friend, Iro takes a seat on the ground next to him. The phaser in Chris' hand looks almost sexy. Remembering how Chris had secured that weapon by himself – and how expertly he'd shot three attackers right after that, without as much as taking aim – he says appreciatively, "I didn't know you're such a great marksman." 

"Comes with the trade," Chris says, keeping his eyes trained on the only door into the room.

"Thanks for saving my life," Iro says more quietly.

"You're welcome." Chris briefly looks at him, mustering him. "You okay?"

"As okay as someone can be who's just escaped death by a scratch." Clutching his knees with his hands, Iro tries to sound less shocked than he still feels. "What are we going to do now?"

"Wait. Maybe they'll try to negotiate with us. Maybe they won't."

"There'll be troops on the way to us soon."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

"George is still on the _Arrivo_?" Iro answers with a tired smirk. "If need be, they will be very well-paid troops, but they'll come."

Chris shakes his head. "You always think credits are the solution to everything?"

"Mostly," Iro agrees. "They sure have served me very well." 

"Good for you," Chris says. "I've been in too many situations in which even Starfleet's superior weaponry didn't save the crew." Chris runs a thumb over his right eyebrow, frowning a little.

"Everything okay?" Iro asks. 

"Yes." Chris pulls away his hand and nods at him. "So – let's wait."

***

Ten hours later, Iro isn't so sure anymore that there will be troops coming to save them. Outside, there's still some sort of fight going on, but which factions and for how long, nobody knows – not even the local guards. At least this means it hadn't been an oversight by the people reporting to him; this attack had been really a surprise to everyone, maybe by some previously unknown terrorist group.

They're hungry and thirsty, and Iro yawns, wishing dearly for a coffee maker in this hole. Seeing Chris rub his eyes and test his sight, though, is like a cold shower.

Iro hastily scrambles over to his friend. "Hey, what's the matter?" he asks. When Chris looks up at him with unfocused eyes, Iro draws a shocked breath. It reminds him of George, where this kind of look always signals yet another upcoming brain surgery.

Taking a second, slower breath, Iro wills himself to relax. Panicking would do none of them any good, and he has enough medical training by now to be of some help, maybe.

"What is it?" he asks again, more demanding.

"I think… I think my meds are wearing off." Chris smiles strangely. "It's weird."

"What are the effects?"

"I've never had this happen before, so I don't know. Right now I just don't seem to… tick right." Closing his eyes, Chris lets his head sink back against the wall.

"How long before it becomes serious?"

"Define serious," Chris replies. "Dying? No clue. Losing control over my limbs? Already started."

Only now does Iro note that Chris' phaser has slid to the floor, resting against his friend's folded legs.

"Would you feel better if we laid you on the ground?"

"No!" Chris jerks his head, vaguely waving one hand. "Not on my back. I don't…. not that." He looks agitated.

"It's okay, it's okay," Iro says gently, calming him down. "Just stay seated here. I'll be right next to you." As promised, he sits down next to Chris, taking one of his hands. It's unusually cool, and Chris doesn't answer his grip. "You feel it? I'm here."

The minutes tick.

"How long?" Chris asks a while later.

"More than eleven hours. I guess you were right, no quick intervention. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's always good to have hope." Chris chuckles. "Keep talking."

"Why?"

"You sound so blue."

Iro frowns. "Blue?"

"Yes… you're blue, bright blue. Like most of the circus. The guards behind us, they all sound brownish Earth colors except for the tall guy, he's pink."

"That's your new version of gaydar?" Iro asks somewhat amused.

"No, he's straight. He just spoke about the woman he'd wanted to marry."

"At least your hearing doesn't seem to be impaired."

"Yeah, it's mostly the motion control," Chris opens his eyes. They look washed-out, such an empty pale blue. "As long as I don't move, it's okay. If I start shaking… not so much."

"Anything I can do about it if that happens?" Iro asks, throat tight.

"Last time it did, Dael got me an emergency beamed up to Starfleet Medical. Poor girl, she still hates riding." Chris weakly presses Iro's hand. "Don't know whether I'll make it. It's a shame… after coming this far."

"Don't say that," Iro states. "I swear we'll get you out of here in time." Once again, the feeling of deja-vu rushes through Iro as he relives the one time that George had been really close to dying. There are no words for the level of helplessness he'd felt back then, and being in a similar situation now, it shakes him to his core. "You won't die here, Chris."

***

It's not a comfortable position he's in, with one shoulder against the cool wall, his legs long ago having lost blood flow in his curled position, but aside from being unable to move by his own force, Chris really doesn't want to die on his back.

The world is pretty colorful, now that the synesthesia has returned. It's as if the empty, dreary room is filled with birds and flowers, with wonderful life. But then the colors start to deteriorate, first a little, then faster, and he doesn't think that's a good sign…

His body starts shaking, harsher by the second, voices dancing in broken lines of yellow.

"Chris, dammit… someone help me, let's get him down…"

He blindly reaches out for Iro, his fingers brushing over fabric without finding a hold. "Dael... tell her… I'm sorry…"

Weird images fill his head, a battle of demons, fighting over his life while tearing him apart in the process.

He'd thought dying would hurt less, but these cramps are pure agony.

When darkness settles, he's relieved.

***

Opening his eyes to an ethereal being, it takes him a moment to understand that he isn't in heaven – and here he'd thought he'd long ago overcome those anachronistic remnants of his childhood beliefs. He's alive, against all odds again.

Doctor Vlian'i's face moves out of his sight, giving room to another visitor. Although it isn't Dael (oh, he wished), it's another very welcome person.

"Can't have you in the hospital without me visiting," John says, relief written all over his tired face. "There are traditions to uphold."

"John…" Chris tries to turn his head, not really surprised when he finds himself strapped down and unable to move.

"I know that I haven't been around for sex in far too long, but this is really taking extreme measures to see me," John jokes, reminding him of the one night he'd called his friend for some sexual intervention.

"But there's someone else here too, who'd like to see for himself that you're alive," John says, making room.

"Chris…" Iro says tightly, clutching his hand. "See, I kept my promise. Got you out in time."

"Bribed… troops?"

"Not really," George's voice comes in from a little farther away, "just good old-fashioned diplomacy. The winning faction is looking forward to a better contract with us."

Still too much out of it, Chris closes his eyes again, barely aware that Vli shuffles his visitors out of the door. Next time he notices her, he asks, "How's the prognosis, doctor?"

"We should have you out of the stabilizer in two days," she says. "I assume you've drawn comparisons to your experiences of the past, but this time, it was mostly a chemical unbalance which the Borg implant couldn't handle. It was probably painful, but not critical. I'll keep you here until your values are within normal range, then you'll be able to recover in your own suite."

"Thank you."

The next day brings more visitors. John, of course – Eric is on tour, so he just relays the younger man's best wishes for a speedy recovery. Iro and George join him for a small breakfast, although Chris can't eat yet normally, both because of his bed-bound position and his still hurting jaw. Bjarne briefly looks in at the end of the day, which feels a little strange – there aren't too many people who Chris feels comfortable seeing him in his current, weak position, and Bjarne isn't one of them.

And of course, there's a call from his men, real-time by piggy-backing on some long distance broadcast signal, the installation courtesy of Spock and Scotty.

It's a strange replay of all the moments in which they had similar exchanges… aside from the fact that Dael is missing.

"Heard anything from Spock or Dael?" Jim asks, as if he had read Chris' thoughts.

"No," Chris says. "Sent them a brief message about what happened, so that they wouldn't be surprised by a sensational news article, but no reaction so far."

The three settle in concerned silence.

Chris briefly wonders whether he should tell them about his findings regarding the _Nautilus_ , but if anything had happened to Spock and Dael, he'd rather have Jim and the doc learn about it when he's back on his feet. No need to deliver two shocking pieces of news at the same time.

"Well, let's hope they resurface soon," the doc says at last. "Time's almost out. Talk to you soon, Chris, and take care. We want you back in one piece."

"I'll do my best."

John stays with him for another day, then has to leave again. They don't manage a round of sex, but that's not really important… it's always just good to see his old friend.

***

Chris recovers quickly, although being back to the eternal up-and-down ride of the last years is always a little sobering. As Vli had promised, he's on his feet after just two days, and back in the gym after four. A new record.

He isn't too happy that Bjarne treats him like some fragile thing during the training, but it's clear that the trainer has been given a new, even longer laundry list of forbidden activities and follows it to the T, putting every machine on rehab level.

Thankfully, Bjarne is less reluctant when it comes to fucking him the same evening, something that Chris needs just as much as every other kind of therapy. Even if it makes him walk a little less steady than normal when they hit the party on the top floor afterwards, celebrating another large coup of the IXOS corporation.

It's his first appearance in the circus since the events, and people heartily welcome him, congratulating him on his speedy recovery and thanking him for saving Iro's life. Actually, Chris thinks that Iro has vastly exaggerated his actions, but it seems to have left a big impression on his friend.

"Well, that's one reason why Iro doesn't like space travel that much," George explains over a shared midnight juice. "He's only ever been in danger on these kind of trips. If it were up to him, he'd always sit in the Headquarters and organize the universe from his chair. But even he has to move outside at times, as long as he doesn't want to delegate certain important tasks."

"I didn't do anything unusual," Chris says.

"Nothing unusual for a trained officer, maybe, but quite unusual for the circus," George says. "Cheers."

Chris shrugs and looks into the large room, sweeping his eyes over the thinning-out group when his gaze comes to rest on a lonely figure that suddenly appears at the entry.

His heart stops when he recognizes _her_.

"Excuse me…" he mutters and rushes over.

***

The figure waits motionless, face and body hidden under a long traveler's coat.

The last meters are the hardest, and his legs feel like lead as he's suddenly so unsure, fearing that his mind had just played a trick on him.

"Dael?" he asks shakily. "Is it you?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry for being so late. Am I still welcome?" She moves one hand, pulling the hood back. Her black lines are sharp on her pale features; she looks like she didn't sleep for days.

"Of course. Oh dear, how much I've missed you," he breathes into her ear as he clutches her, half crushing her thin body under his rebuilt strength. Months of trying not to think about a future without her weigh heavily, unbearably on him for a horrifying second; then she leans forward and answers his embrace with all her might, dispelling his angst.

"So," a voice behind them says, "I gather this is the elusive Dael." With a frown, Chris opens the tight embrace, rotating around to face Iro.

"Yes, I'm Dael," she says.

"Well, nice meeting you, after all these months," his friend says, more coldly than Chris had ever heard him. "Here's hoping your trip of self-discovery comes to an end now and you are ready to settle down and stay with him."

Stunned, Chris doesn't know how to react.

"Maybe," Dael says flatly, raising her own defenses.

"I truly hope that isn't the case," Iro states. "A _Maybe_ is just a way to drive him crazy, as well you should know. No, don't try to stop me," he interrupts Chris' weak attempt to say something, addressing Dael further. "I watched for long enough how he held up here, eternally waiting for some life sign from you. Just days ago, he was close to dying… and it was your name on his lips, and it almost broke my heart." Iro's gaze darkens even further. Behind him, George draws close, but obviously doesn't intend to stop Iro's irate talk.

"I don't know what it is about the four of you that you seem to think that being apart is the standard and being together is a rare, precious moment stolen from life. I only can see that this isn't what Chris needs, and I'm tired of watching him suffer."

"Iro!" Chris manages at last. "Stop it." At his side, Dael turns and walks away.

"You're way out of line," he says sharply. " _Way_ out."

"Someone needs to kick your tribe in their goddamn asses once in a while," Iro says without remorse. "As you obviously can't or won't do."

"Dael is my partner. She's my George. You make her leave – I'll be gone." He turns and runs after Dael, ice-cold panic rushing through his veins.

***

He catches up with her at the turbolift, rushing into it with her and pushing the button for his floor.

"I'm sorry for that." Pulling her close, he's relieved that she doesn't resist. "Iro likes to take care of me, but he had no right to speak to you like that." He draws his arms around her. It's unbelievable how his whole body seems to take a leap at being so close to her, and he'll make damn sure she won't leave for all the wrong reasons.

"Maybe he's right," Dael mutters against his shoulder.

"That he might be right in some aspects doesn't make the essence of his talk any truer," Chris states.

The lift stops on his level, and he takes her hand, leading the way. When the door to his suite closes behind them, he pulls her into an embrace again, unwilling to let her out of his arms until he's sure that she understands just how much he wants her to stay.

"I don't know what you found, or why you're late. You're welcome to share anything you want, but I won't ask. You don't have to explain yourself, but if you want to pour out your heart, I'll listen. I'm just so damn glad you're back. I love you." Sweeping his lips over her cheek, he tightens the embrace. Her heartbeat is fast and tangible against his chest.

When she speaks, it's like a low breeze along his chin. "Maybe you wouldn't want me anymore if you knew…"

"Can't imagine anything that would make me stop loving you," he whispers. "I know that fear, I had it too. There are so many things about me I'd rather you not know, but in the end, that only reflects on me, not on you."

"What if you found out you had killed your father?"

"There are some who think that, after all he took it quite hard when I left for good…" Chris says, vividly remembering his uncle who'd met him at the cemetery years later by chance, when Chris had visited for the first and only time.

_Why did you even come here, wasn't it enough to drive them into an early grave?_

But then he notices Dael's tense body, and suddenly realizes that she meant it literally.

"You think you killed him?" he asks quietly.

"I did. It was me all along…"

He rubs down her back, trying to ease her subdued shiver. "If you want to speak about it, why don't we make ourselves comfortable and then you tell me everything, right from the beginning?"

She nods wordlessly and lets herself get steered to the bed. They drop their clothes and curl around each other, his arm underneath her head. When Dael starts talking again, she sounds a lot more composed, albeit quite somber.

"When we arrived at Galan VI, there was little left of the past, they'd torn down the barracks and most of that part of the city, taking pains to remove anything that reminded them of their not so glorious years. There were also no archived data from that time – at least that's what some officials told us, who wanted to get us off the planet as soon as possible. But Spock isn't a man to take no as an answer, so he started an inquiry by himself… he's such a hacker…" Dael chuckles for a moment. "We found the medical archives and what turned out to be the autopsy results of my father." Her voice briefly falters, her body tensing in Chris' arms. He strokes her gently, waiting in patient silence.

"He'd died only hours after our arrival. He'd been stabbed, a wound to his chest." Dael vaguely gestures towards to the right side of her body, shortly above her waistline. "He bled to death internally."

"And why do you think it was you?" Chris asks.

"It was a Romulan dagger. It was mine. I remembered the fight just before they came to retrieve us from Khal, I remembered it but I didn't know I'd hurt him so deeply, I didn't know I killed him." She's shaking a little, and Chris draws her closer, his own walls sharply rising up as the emotional intensity of the moment gets too much for his safety. She buries her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Did you want to kill him?" he asks calmly.

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I don't remember," she whispers against his shoulder.

"Do you think you actively wanted to kill him, that you in the full command of your mental faculties set out to kill him?"

That seems to break through her mental loop. "No, I didn't."

"Or was it rather in self-defense, when there was nothing but you and your dagger between him and Raol?" Chris asks, possibly going too far with this assumption but having a terribly clear picture of the scene in his head all of a sudden.

"I didn't want to kill him, I just wanted him to leave us alone. I knew he was ill, he couldn't help himself. I tried everything to care for us but I just didn't succeed."

"Dael, you were a starving, traumatized teenage girl on a dead world trying to handle a man with an illness that would be hard to cope with even in a mental institution," Chris says softly. "You never really had a chance, your only chance was to keep all of you alive until you could leave that planet, and you managed that. You're not responsible for your father's actions. And you were never responsible for Raol's actions." 

Running his hand over the skin on her shoulder, he notices just how tense she still feels.

"Is there… something else you want to tell me?" he asks quietly.

"I don' know how to say it…" she whispers.

"Just try."

"I've always had such a knife with me. Always. Now that I know what I did, I can't help but think of every situation that could've gone wrong… I could've stabbed someone else."

She pulls a little away, looking up to meet his gaze. "I could've stabbed you."

"On the beach?" he asks for clarification.

"Yes. If you had attacked me, I don't know what I might have done… it's a terrible thought. Leonard would hate me if he knew."

"He doesn't know, and I won't tell him," Chris says. "Dael – I have every faith in you that you won't stab someone just because of some little misunderstanding. If I _had_ given you a reason to use your knife, it would've been in self-defense, and then you would've been right to take any sensible measures."

"I had sworn to myself to protect you. I didn't want to fail you."

Chris sighs. "I never asked for that. And I can't see where you failed me, darling."

"I left you here all alone."

"I needed that. It wasn't always easy, no lie, but I really needed it." He kisses her patterned forehead. "Just as much as I needed you to come back. I missed you so much."

"Missed you too," she whimpers and leans upwards to kiss him.

They kiss for a long time, before he moves – and then it's only to kneel up and over her, sweeping his lips over her body to cherish every single line of her tattoos. He aches almost physically through another moment of fear that she might still think of leaving him, but all he can do is to put everything of him into making her understand that he meant every word. That he still loves her, still feels safe with and protected by her, and that her past would never be a reason to leave her.

Following the lines down to her groin, he comes to a sudden halt.

"Do you have – new lines?" he asks, surprised, running his fingertips over the two tattooed lines that he's certain he's never seen before.

She opens her eyes and raises her head a little, looking down towards him.

"New lines?"

"Yes." He can even feel them, slightly elevated under his fingertips, in contrast to the other, older lines. She must have gotten them done on Khal. It's the only logical explanation.

Sinking back onto the pillow, she shakes her head. "They've always belonged there."

Chris stills, unsure what to do. This seems like such a plain lie, but it's out of character for Dael to lie to him, especially when the truth is so obvious. Then he notices that she hadn't said, " _they've always been there_ ". They might not have been there before, but they obviously seem to be an aspect of her journey, of the desire to get closure.

So if in her head, this aspect is… fulfilled… who's he to inquire further?

He leans over again, placing a tentative kiss on the lines. She shivers under his touch, the easy, sexual reconnection from just a moment ago suddenly feeling heavier, darker. Slowly moving his way up on her body again, he lays down next to her, refraining from any direct stimulation until, after a while, it's she who initiates it, exploring his body almost as intensely as upon their very first time together. It steals his breath away, wondering if this is still some part of her quest, but then she goes down on him and he's too aroused to think further.

***

The subject of those lines still lingers in his subconscious, and the next morning, Chris eyes himself in the tall bathroom mirror. Most of the time, the tattoo on his groin is just _there_ , not particularly noticeable to him, but now he looks at the details.

These two lines… they are in his pattern. They've always been there, due to Dael's artistic variation of her own, making the tattoos now more similar than they'd been before. Apparently the lines have really always _belonged_ there in her head.

It's a little eerie.

With both hands, Chris covers the pattern as he feels his emotional walls rise, the image in the mirror tuning out of colors around the edges.

He stiffens as Dael unexpectedly steps behind him, fresh out of the sonic shower. He watches her hands, settling on his over his groin; he sees her lips, touching his shoulder without him really feeling it.

"It's still the most wonderful gift you've ever given to me," she whispers, carefully easing his hands to the sides to reveal the pattern. "It makes me hope you'll always belong to me."

"I do belong to you," he says. "With or without them."

"With them, it feels as if you share... something special." In the mirror, he can see her walk around him, sinking to her knees. Her back mirrors in the glass, the pattern so beautiful.

He'd never really thought about how it must have felt to her; what she might have experienced in the many hours the tattoos must have taken.

Her head covers his lower body now, her lips running over his pattern.

Leaning forward, he supports himself with his hands; it looks as if he's reaching out to himself for support. He almost feels like stopping her, but then she takes him into her mouth and sucks him in deeply, without hesitation, and like the night before all his thoughts stop, the only thing left to him being able to feel.

***

"Chris is taking the day off," Iro says after a glance at his new messages. " _For personal reasons._ "

"No surprise." George buttons up his white silk shirt, then eyes himself in the mirror. He doesn't feel very well today but is relieved that it doesn't show in his face. Probably just a cold creeping up – he'll make sure to take an immunebooster once his husband is out the door.

"You need to apologize," he says, looking at Iro via the mirror.

"Do I?" Iro says challengingly. "Don't tell me you don't share my opinion."

"It doesn't matter what we think, it only matters what Chris thinks."

"That girl… of all the men he could have if he just opened his eyes, it's got to be this…" Not finding a good, non-derogatory term, Iro just waves his hand.

"Yes, obviously it had to be exactly this girl, and if you want Chris to stay, you better get a grip on your feelings." George turns, facing his husband directly. "Or is there any other reason why you feel so hurt by her existence?"

He isn't blind, and despite Iro always having been quite content in their closed twosome relationship, he'd long ago noticed that Iro feels drawn to Chris. In fact, he's already spent some time wondering if there might come a request to open their relationship, and how he might deal with any poly situation.

But on the other hand, Chris seems very constant in his feelings for his three partners, and George doubts that Iro could ever get Chris just for himself, not as an exclusive lover and even less as an exclusive sub, if Chris had any sub potential at all… and Iro as a sub, no, that would never work. So taking everything into account, George considers his relationship stable enough to survive Chris Pike within their inner circle.

"I don't feel hurt by her existence," Iro says, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks. "I just don't think she's good for him."

George shakes his head. "Now you sound like your mother. You remember? _I can't understand why it has to be that guy. You could have anyone in the universe but –_ "

"Shhh." Iro cuts him off with a deep frown. "That's not the same. That girl is –"

"– Chris' main partner, and you've got to suck it up or you'll lose him," George states plainly.

Still annoyed, Iro takes the spot in front of the mirror, trying to make a knot in his cravat. After two failed attempts, he throws the ruined piece to the ground.

"Here, take this one," George says and ties another one around Iro's neck, then puts a gentle kiss on his husband's lips.

"Apologize, you think?" Iro says at last, slightly placated.

"Yes. The sooner, the better."

"I'll do that." Iro sighs. "Still…"

"Get out and do something useful," George says, making it as much of an order as he feels comfortable with.

It earns him a mock salute. "Yesss, sir," Iro says, then slaps George's butt. "We'll talk about your behavior tonight."

"Fine by me," George says unrelenting, his eyes on the clock. "Now, hush."

Sometimes, he thinks with a sigh as he closes the door behind his as usual running late master, it feels as if he's taking care of a damn school kid, not a galactic leader.

There's a headache pulsing in his forehead, and he walks into the bathroom, staring at the medications he could take. But then he sighs; avoidance would not help the matter, he'd better make an appointment with Vli, just to be on the safe side.

***

After the sex they return to bed, where she falls asleep again. For a long time, Chris lays next to her and watches her, listening to her steady breathing, feeling her regular heartbeat with his hand on her breast.

The weird feelings of the early morning are mostly gone, replaced by acceptance. There is no use in trying to get answers from her that she doesn't want to give.

He still hopes that one day, she'll share the events from her Khal trip with him.

The doorbell rings, annoyingly loud in his silent suite. He wishes he could sit it out, unwilling to part from Dael, but in his experience, ignoring visitors never helped. Once someone comes over at all, it is either urgent or personal. Disgruntled, he picks up a shirt and jeans.

In this case it's personal – the IXOS head himself.

"May I come in?" Iro asks, unusually subdued.

"Depends," Chris says, blocking the entry.

"I'm sorry for my reaction yesterday."

"Are you really? Or did George send you over?"

"Yes," Iro answers in a non-reply. "So, let me in?"

Chris turns, looking back into the suite. Seems Dael hasn't woken up so far. "Keep it down, she's sleeping," he says, hushed, and lets him in. They walk to the coffee machine together.

"I need one. You too?"

"Always," Iro replies. They wait in silence until they're both equipped with a cup.

"I'm really sorry," Iro repeats at last. "I... it's you relationship, and you know how to handle it. I just... I felt so offended on your behalf. It's as if no matter how she treats you, you just take it all without complaint, like some... " He bites his lip.

"Say it."

"Like some washrag, some wimp. As if you're glad when she gives you any little bit of attention, and then sit it out in months of quiet agony when she doesn't. And when she showed up, much later than you all had planned, you just took her in as if nothing had happened. Did she even explain her delay, why she did that to all of you?"

Chris stares at him. "You're done?"

Iro lifts his hands in desperation. "Explain it to me. Please, Chris. I want you to stay here, if possible with her, but I just don't get it and right now I can't imagine even sitting at the same table with her when my opinion of her is that she's a heartless, manipulative, egotistic, spoiled girl that plays Jim Kirk and you against each other. Make me understand. I beg you."

His inner walls are pretty high up once Iro is done, and the whole scene looks relievingly unemotional. It leaves Chris the room to think about his friend's statements without just wanting to punch his lights out, which might end his new life and their friendship.

With Iro still waiting for his answer, Chris finally says, "I don't even know where to start... first of all, I _wanted_ her to go on this journey, fully knowing that it might be hard on us all, and without any guarantees that she'd ever come back. I did that because she needed to get closure about her past.

"Next, you're obviously not as well-informed about my last years as you think you are. When I met her at first, I wasn't in a good place. It got better with and thanks to her. She saved my life, more than once. She's been a gift to me, a gift that I didn't expect at all, and I cherish her as that. Yes, maybe I'm a little weird in my attitude that as long as I live, I'll simply be grateful for every moment she wants to share with me, and if that ever changes from her side, then I'll let her go because I love her. But I can assure you that the girl I know is loving, supportive, and caring, often beyond her own good."

Chris stops, taking a deep breath. Considering Iro's thoughtful gaze, he's conveyed some of the important points, but not nearly enough. A certain frustration settles as Iro starts to remind him of John, who'd liked to judge his partners just as much, mostly as not being good enough for him.

"Is it healthy? I don't know, not even our psychologists could tell me. Is it wrong for us? We don't think so, and in the end it's our decision, nobody else's. Could I live without her? Not really. Many things tie us together – the past, Nero, the things we've gone through, the ways of healing we found, each of us and the two of us together. There are things only she can understand. Maybe it's... some kind of redemption, what we find in each other. But in any case, it's our business and that I've even got to explain any of this to you hurts a damn lot. You could at least have tried to trust my judgment in the matter instead of almost making her run away."

Suddenly out of words, he turns, putting one hand on his face. He needs a moment to recover, wishing Iro would just leave. But the man keeps standing behind him in utter silence.

"I can't apologize for asking, Chris, sorry for that," Iro says after a while. "I needed to understand, at least a little. I don't think I could've kept working with you otherwise."

Chris turns. "Why is my relationship so damn important to you? You may be a close friend by now, but you're not my partner."

"No, I'm not," Iro agrees. He thinks for a moment. "It's important because the situation reminded me of something I was forced to witness in the past, and I wouldn't have been able to watch someone else that I care for suffer from emotional dependency and abuse in an unhealthy relationship."

"George...?" Chris surprised ventures a guess.

Iro nods. "When I got to know him, he was in an abusive relationship where the D/s aspect had long gotten out of hand. His Dom had already ruined every shred of self-respect George had, and kept knuckling him down until one day, he had enough of having a perfectly trained slave and pushed him out on the street. I had already set my eyes on him, and some people have accused me of just taking over... " Iro's gaze hardens. "I made very sure to remove those idiots from our life. Yes, I took over the place of his Dom, but with me he learned that this kind of relationship could look very different. I don't need someone who's on his knees all the time, who can't think for himself or needs micromanagement to go to the bathroom. What I want is a strong partner, and my sub whenever it pleases me and him. There always needs to be a choice, on both sides."

Iro sighs. "So, yeah, now you know where I'm coming from. I wouldn't mind seeing you on your knees as long it's your choice, but getting trampled on in a relationship... that I couldn't bear."

Chris shakes his head. "No, you won't see that between her and me, Iro. Our relationship doesn't look like yours, and when I get on my knees for anyone, it's always a choice and always for pleasure." He feels his face flushing just a little.

"The doc?" Iro asks.

"Yes," Chris replies with a shrug.

"I bet his jealousy is more of a turn-on in bed than outside of it." Iro chuckles.

"I'm not sharing," Chris says warningly. "Neither way, not with you."

"I know, and that's fine." Iro turns away to take the forgotten cup of coffee, emptying it in one gulp. "Doesn't mean that it wouldn't be tempting, if things were different."

"Maybe," Chris relents, too aware of the low-level erotic attraction that had developed between them. Then he changes back to the actual subject. "So – are you ready to apologize to Dael? If so, I'll wake her."

"I was just thinking about that," Iro says, turning back to him. "A lot of circus members saw my rude behavior last night. So how about this: the two of you come to the buffet later and I apologize in front of everyone, making sure that she's as welcomed as she should've felt from the get-go?'"

Chris ponders the suggestion. "Sounds acceptable, but I'll talk with her first."

"Afraid she might not accept it?"

"Could happen," Chris states. "She's done that before – she's got balls." Especially when she needs to defend the reputation of others, less herself.

"Okay. So.... see you later, hopefully."

Chris shows him out, then collects himself for another moment before walking into the bedroom. He's not surprised to find Dael looking at him.

"You were awake?"

"Yes. I was listening all along."

He undresses and slips back into bed next to her. "I'm sorry. I don't know why everyone seems to think I need to get rescued from this or that relationship," he mutters as he draws her into his embrace, still a little frustrated.

"It happened to me all the time, so... just thank you for defending my honor," Dael breathes into his ear. She shivers and he curls around her, holding her tightly.

"As if it needed defending... my wonderful sweetheart, my girl..." He puts kisses on her forehead, then moves down to her lips, relieved when she answers his touch. They cuddle for a while, just enjoying their closeness.

"Did you hear his suggestion?" Chris asks at last, when the time for the dinner buffet draws close.

"Yes."

"It's your choice how to respond. Just... if you don't want to accept his apology, give him and me a warning beforehand."

"If I don't accept it, could you still stay here?"

"Probably not," Chris says. "But you shouldn't sacrifice your sense of honor because of that." He kisses her. "Got my captain's license renewed. I can find a new job whenever I need one."

"But you like it here," she says. "It's good for you."

"I'm sure there are a lot of other places where I'd feel the same... as long as you're with me," he says, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once. He could probably live without her here in the circus, but he couldn't live alone somewhere else, without the support of his friends and his work.

Crutches, crutches, never going to go away... though coming from a background of always having lived a rather orderly life with strong structure, he isn't sure whether it's not just the way he's always ticked. When he'd challenged Jim, he'd been well aware that the boy had a potential for leaping that he hadn't himself.

"I'll accept it," Dael says, startling him for a second.

"Really? As I said..."

"He cares for you, and that's a good reason to question my behavior... I'm sorry for being absent so long, but I'm here to stay for now. Not going to leave anytime soon." She uncurls a little, cradling his head and massaging down his shoulders.

"Love to hear that," he murmurs, feeling the leftover tension leaving his body.

Soon afterward they get up, take a brief shower and dress up.

"I don't have many clothes with me, but I've got this one –" She shows him the bright-green, knee-long brocade coat she'd worn once to an embassy ball.

"Perfect."

She nods, applying just the right amount of make-up to enhance her natural beauty without covering any of her tattoos.

As they ride up, he clutches her hand.

"I won't run, you know," she says and smiles.

"You're a fairy; if you wanted, you could always fly away."

His joke earns him a rather serious gaze.

"Aren't fairies almost like – ghosts?"

"No. Fairies are cute," he says, ignoring the more complex nature of their Scottish relatives. "Ever see Peter Pan?"

Her tattoos shift as she frowns. Seems a comparison to Tinkerbell isn't exactly to her liking.

"You know children's literature?"

Busted. "Might have read up on it a little... just because," he says evasively, glad when the turbolift doors open right then. This isn't the evening to bring up the sad event that had caused their departure.

***

Iro delivers his public apology with style and grace in front of everyone, pulling Dael into a welcoming embrace when she accepts it with just as much style. George shakes her hand, muttering some extra words into her ears that make her smile. The couple stay with them for a while, before they consider the matter settled enough to let them walk around on their own.

And now he's showing Dael around like she's the most precious thing in the world, barely aware of the silly smile on his face. Seeing the various interested gazes of men and women resting on her, Chris is absurdly proud of his beautiful partner – _wife_ still sounds weird to him, but the sentiment of owning is definitely in the mix tonight.

Tonight, she's all his, and while he loves bragging about her, he'll be the one to take her home after the party, to his – _their_ – bed. Tomorrow, they'll send a note to Jim that she has resurfaced, and he'll be ready to share her again, with the tribe or whoever else she might be interested in here.

Tonight, however, she's his, and he makes that abundantly clear in the way he hovers near to her, one of his hands always somewhere on her body.

Annoying alpha male behavior, maybe, but she doesn't seem to mind tonight, only leans into his touch.

They retire early, hand in hand.

***

"Spock – glad to see you too," Chris says ironically when the Vulcan finally answers his calls and makes time for an appointment with him two days later, in a quiet corner of a nearby, public restaurant. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me."

"I did not see the need for it," Spock says unusually stiffly. "That, however, changed."

"Oh. Well, sit down." Chris waves at a waiter, ordering a strong coffee for himself and a tea for Spock.

"What is it that finally made you agree, after delivering Dael to my door without a word?"

"Dael, exactly." Spock sits down. "I heard she suffered public criticism at the hand of your employer."

"Oh. We got that one settled. Usually, it isn't Iro's style to react like that, but he was more frustrated on my behalf then I knew. I was quite surprised myself."

"Our delay was my fault," Spock says. "We had already laid a course to the _Enterprise_ so that she could attend your reunion, when I diverted to another place."

Learning that Dael had wanted to come makes Chris feel warm and happy. "Did you have a good reason to change it?"

"I thought so, at that time. My informers had delivered data on a harmful organism that I knew from my timeline, and I set off to avoid the worst and destroy it in time. I achieved that; the costs however could have been too high. I endangered my ship… and both our lives." Spock falls silent.

Chris digests the news, including Spock's admission of interacting with this timeline a lot more than he'd ever admitted. He likes the idea, but... "So we're meeting here so that you can tell me that you almost got Dael killed?"

"Yes. I almost failed in my promise to keep her save. It kept her from joining the three of you when it was very important to all of you."

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"She did not want to reveal my activities."

"I see." Too protective of others, here they go again.

"Well – instead of telling me, you better drop Jim a note and explain it to him, at least that her delay had been your fault," Chris says. "He was hurt the most by Dael's absence and total silence."

"I do not want to interfere –"

"Dammit, Spock, you've interfered with Jim and his life from his first day on," Chris states in carefully leveled annoyance. "Put a hold on those stupid excuses already. Jim needs to hear this, and he needs to hear it from _you_."

"Maybe you are right," Spock concedes with a stony face.

"I am right, and I want you to make that call," Chris says.

"Yes – sir," Spock says, a barely audible sigh traveling behind. "I will."

"Good. And then I expect you to join us for dinner tonight, Dael and me," Chris says. "She misses you." He squarely stares down the hint of resistance in the Vulcan's eyes.

Soon, Spock admits defeat. "Thank you for the invitation, I shall be there," the Vulcan says, then quickly leaves him.

Their shared dinner is comfortable and familial, demonstrating once more just what could be possible if Chris manages to bring the doc around regarding Spock.

***

When Dael had returned, Bjarne had been on vacation for a week, but once he's back, Chris introduces the two over breakfast within the circus.

"Bjarne, meet my partner Dael. Dael – meet Bjarne, my fitness trainer, and more."

They shake hands, exchanging a few sentences before Bjarne moves on. 

Dael leans against Chris, whispering, "Whoa, he looks hot. Think he'd be up for a night with both of us?"

"I have no idea whether he does anything with women," Chris has to admit, although he'd be very open to a threesome himself.

"Guess you don't talk a lot."

"Mostly about training," Chris says, glossing over the few moments of more intimate conversation. "So, just ask him."

"I will."

Three evenings later, Bjarne, it turns out, might be on the very low end of bisexuality but at least he's flexible enough to get it up with a woman in the same bed. They have a good time, but far from the explosive encounters Chris tends to have with the guy in the gym.

"Ah well," Dael sighs later. "He just isn't Eric."

They don't repeat that experiment.

However, ten days after Dael's return Chris isn't surprised to learn that she's been invited into Vlian'i's circle, and basically pushes her out of the door when she hesitates about joining them for a first date.

"Just think what you could tell Arissa afterwards," Chris says. "I don't think she's ever had a Deltan in her bed."

"Have you?" Dael asks, before answering that herself, "Oh, I remember."

"A half-Deltan, and she wasn't like any other Deltan I've met over the years. I also only had sex with her because John dragged me to the place and she looked like you."

She shakes her head. "You don't have to apologize to me for every other woman in your life."

"I don't. I'm just saying that it's always only been about you. It was you and those you brought to us that increased the number of women I've encountered naked. But over the last several months I found that when it's just my own choice, aside from you I'm still absolutely gay."

Dael leans forward to kiss him. "I don't mind," she whispers as she pulls away. "I like being that exception. It's an interesting place to be."

"Good." He captures her face, running one thumb over her bottom lip. She looks beautiful tonight. Having her back with him is a gift he can't really fathom yet, and he wants nothing more than for her to be happy here so that she will stay for a long time. "And now go and enjoy your evening with Vli and her group. It will be marvelous."

"And you? Are you going to see Bjarne?"

"No, I have a pile of documents to catch up on, so I'll sit down on my couch, have some red wine and work."

"Maybe I can leave early –"

"If you come home before midnight, I'll send you back," Chris says sternly.

"Yes, sir," Dael says with a salute, then walks off to get dressed up.

He's already at work when she says good-bye, and is glad that he manages only a brief glimpse of her because she really looks gorgeous and he might not have been able to keep his hands off her otherwise.

"See you later," she calls out and leaves.

It's after midnight when Dael comes back, bringing with her an aura of satiation and delight so intense that it's like a wave rushing into the room.

"Thank you," she says as she joins him on the couch for a first kiss. Then she takes away his PADD, moves away his glass, and starts undressing him.

"You don't have to…" Chris barely manages to stutter, then shuts up as she puts two fingers on his lips.

"I want you. Now."

Well, it's not his job to deny his one woman anything she really desires, even if it means getting his nearly asleep body into gear for some athletic positions.

Thank the universe for beautiful Deltans and demanding fitness trainers.

***

They find a project for Dael in one of the few IXOS groups that deal with the Romulan Empire on which she can work via long distance communication, but Chris knows her heart isn't in it and she'd much rather go on another humanitarian mission with Spock. He's not sure how that might fit into their other, more planet-based plans but does his best not to overthink that right now.

He considers it an interesting and potentially good sign when she has minor surgery to remove the scarred tissue in her uterus. She quickly recovers from it and while she doesn't mention the words _children_ or _pregnancy_ , this surgery can only mean that the subject would show up in due time.

Like, when they learn that one of their upcoming travels with the _Arrivo_ would cross the path of the _Enterprise_. They stare at each other when they note it.

"Should we…?" Dael asks, unsure.

"Absolutely. It's time that we all get together again." It might be a little complicated on the first day, a little bit like starting over again, but Chris' days with the men had been awesome and so he's sure that having Dael with them all again will turn out just as good in the end.

But she surprises him by looking away and saying, "Maybe I can't be what Jim wants. What you all want."

The elephant at last. Chris takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair. "What do you think we want?"

She looks back at him. "Someone who'll always stay home with you."

"What do you want?"

She falls into silence for a while. "I want to be able to go on missions once in a while. I'd love to have children but I don't want to be… just a mother. My mother did that and it didn't fulfill her."

Chris shrugs. "And?"

"You don't want me to leave either," Dael states with a frown.

"True. But I can live with it as long as I hear from you regularly. I want you to be satisfied with your life, and if that means that we guys do our goddamn part of the job beyond delivering sperm and actually take care of our kids, it should work out."

"You would do that?" She doesn't sound particularly like she believes him.

"Well, I can't promise that I'll make a great father, but I can do _father figure_ all right," he says, half-joking, and as hoped for it takes some of the edge off of the discussion, making her frown ease into a small smile.

"Besides, I wouldn't want to get into a fight with Jim about the father position."

At the mention of Jim, Dael turns more serious again. "I don't think Jim would want me to leave for months."

"Face it, none of us really _wants_ you to go. But from my point of view, we all have that wanderlust gene in us." Chris sighs – time to bring up his own elephant.

"Actually, I've come to really like my job here and I don't think I could just resign and go back to Earth like I had planned when I started. I love taking on demanding projects once in a while, I love to work through the night and have heated discussions with people from which I can learn and grow. I feel alive here and I don't really want to give that up completely."

For a moment Dael closes her eyes, clutching his hand. Then she shakes her head and looks at him. "Thank you for telling me. I wondered about that already… I know how happy you are with your work. It's your ideal way life. But how does that fit with our plans?"

"Not sure yet," Chris admits. "I think we could make it work – between four people, this should be doable, considering that many single parents are raising children. But we need a solution that we can all live with, and I agree that Jim's going to be the hardest one to bring onboard. We need to talk about it in person. So let's meet them and find out how we can all have our cake and eat it too."

She nods, and so they compose the message together, sending a proposal for a three day meeting at the station above Visha III out into the stars.

The positive confirmation comes at what feels like quicker-than-light speed.

***

In what feels just as fast, time flies and the long-awaited day of their reunion is here.

They're both a little nervous when they pack their clothes and whatever else they might need. In Chris' case, _whatever_ includes the Monster – after all, all his exercises with it have been for the doc's pleasure, so he might as well take it with him. Also, he's still toying with the idea of taking a little revenge and have the doc sit on it too, although he doubts his lover could eroticize that as well as he can.

Despite that small excursion into erotic fantasies, though, Chris knows that the foremost goal of this meeting is to turn their foursome into a true cloverleaf again. The remaining slight rift between Dael and Jim needs to be mended, or they won't be able to return to their former balance. He's not sure how much he can do to help them – if it were up to him, he'd put Jim and Dael into a room with a large bed and lock the door, only letting them out when they'd talked and fucked their hearts out. A simple sounding method, but one he's quite sure would work.

The second they leave the shuttle at the Visha III station spaceport, though, any plans he might've had for their day get interrupted by an urgent comm from Iro asking Chris for an emergency meeting, the accompanying news of two destroyed trade ships and their 'fleet convoy more than justifying this action.

It should be bad news, but Chris suddenly feels almost relieved – maybe it's just what the other three need. He looks at Dael. "Go without me for now. I'll join you in a few hours."

Dael hesitates.

"Jim is looking forward to seeing you. No need to make him wait just because I'm a little delayed."

"Okay." Dael sighs.

Putting one arm around her, he nudges her. "You'll be fine. Now, hurry off or they'll think we stood them up." Placing a kiss on her forehead, he releases her before taking a step towards the business room area. When he glances back over his shoulder, he can see her walking away. Good.

"S _orry for ruining your plans_ ," Iro apologizes in a private text message when he signs on to the online meeting from his freshly booked meeting room.

Chris shakes his head, typing as reply, " _Will be good for the others to have a moment without me. Haven't met in person for far too long._ "

The meeting lasts slightly longer than the projected hour. They're close to wrapping it up when his comm goes off.

It's the doc. " _Are you done soon? Left the kids to themselves and am waiting in the entry hall. Leonard._ "

Five minutes later Chris is free and hastens down the stairway, almost running over his lover. "Doc!" he exclaims as he grabs Leonard's arms, pulling him close.

"Hey, Chris!" The doc laughs, answering his embrace. When they unlace, they look at each other for a second – then, ignoring everyone around them, kiss deeply. 

"Damn, that feels good," the doc says quietly when they can speak again, and takes Chris' bag against his will. The station feels surprisingly chilly, and Chris pulls his jacket tighter.

"So, where are Jim and Dael?" he asks.

"Still in our suite, I guess. Left them after five minutes, told Jim he should drop me a note when they're ready to mingle with us. How about having a snack and a coffee somewhere? I'm starving."

"Fine by me."

The doc links arms with him, steering him to the right into a shopping center where he'd obviously already checked out a comfortable and thankfully also better-heated cafe. 

"Funny that you seemed to have had the same idea as I," Chris says when they're seated. "Locking them up in a room with a bed and leaving them there until they settle their problems."

The doc shrugs. "Yeah, well, that's what usually works best for Jim."

"For some others too," Chris says, lacing his fingers' with Leonard's over the table. "Missed you, doc."

"Missed you too," Leonard says softly. "Although we can't really complain, after the gorgeous time we had last time."

"Considering how rarely we meet, I think I'm always entitled to complain," Chris says.

The doc quirks an eyebrow. "Not getting enough dick? Bjarne out of order or anything?"

"Bjarne's fine, but he's just a friend. Not like you," Chris says, a little annoyed.

"I know. Sorry." They order two cups of coffees.

"Any bets how long we've got to wait here?" Chris says, unlacing their hands to lean back and stretch out his legs.

"No idea. But we could always get a room."

"Or maybe we could just go to the restroom and I could bend you over the lavatory and take you hard," Chris says nonchalantly, enjoying the amusing flush that runs over the doc's face.

Leonard licks his lips. "Nasty, nasty."

"Nasty and hot, you mean," Chris corrects him with a smirk.

"Yeah. Well." Leonard chuckles.

Life is good… now if only their youngsters come around.

***

Once again, Jim follows Dael's lead, walking next to her through the labyrinth of the lower station levels. With urgent determination, she rushes along the corridors, barely making sure that he's able to follow her.

She hadn't told him where they were going, only that it was necessary.

Suddenly, she stops abruptly. "Here it is," she says and waves at a door that is littered with... tiny toys, _hundreds_ of tiny toys.

Jim's heart starts pounding as she opens the door.

Inside, it's a sea of bright colors, illuminated by tealights.

More toys.

And clothes.

Tiny shirts, tiny shoes, tiny... everything.

A mourning place for children.

Covering his mouth with one hand, he battles for control, feeling his eyes already watering.

"I never really said goodbye, the way I should have," Dael says, and while her voice might sound detached, her fingers tremble as she gets something out of her bag. It's a children's book, the size of her palm.

"I started drawing it just for him," she says. "Right from the day that I knew..." She pulls a pen out of her bag. When she looks at Jim, he can see her eyes shimmering wet in the candlelight, a million bright colors reflecting in them.

"We never gave him a name. But I can't say good-bye without a name, I need him to know this is for him."

A first streak of tears runs down Jim's face, and he doesn't care. "A name? I don't know." A name for a child he would never see growing up – must it have felt like this for his own father? He jerks one hand over his wet cheek. "I thought about naming him Peter."

Dael smiles, the saddest smile he's ever seen on anyone's face. "Peter. That's a beautiful name. Let's call him that." Her fingers shake harder as she tries to write it onto the front of the book; and only when he takes it from her hand and offers it back to her in a steady hold is she able to put down the letters.

_For Peter._

"This way, he'll forever know how much we love him," Dael whispers.

"Yes." He swallows down a sob, running another hand over his face. "Shall we put it up on the wall?" He looks around half-blindly, wondering where they would find pins.

"Yes. Here, take these..." Of course she's prepared, pulling three pins out of her bag. They have comic figures as their heads, some of them he recognizes from his own childhood – and they look old, as if they'd been in the ground for a long time.

Together they reach up, finding a small spot for their gift, next to a little Dragon and a card written in some alien letters. For a moment, they keep holding the small book together in quiet mourning; then they lower their arms, looking at each other.

"Thank you," Dael says. He curls his arms around her, holding her tightly until another couple enters the chapel. Wanting to give them the same room for their grief as they had had, they leave the place, stopping in the door for a moment for a long, last look at the scene. From the distance, they can't see the children's book; it's become one tiny part of the whole, one drop in this ocean of tears.

They close the door together, their hands still laced as they make the first tentative steps away from it, towards the place where the other two would be waiting for them. They walk in silence for a while, until Dael leans against him. "I'm sorry that I couldn't do that before," she says quietly.

"I understand," Jim says. "I really do," he adds with emphasis as Dael shakes her head. "Chris explained some things to me. You don't need to hide anything from me. Please, never do that again." He stops, turning towards her. "I love you. I'll always love you, no matter your past. And I still want to have children with you. Would you...?" He can barely breathe, so fearful of getting the wrong answer.

But his fear is baseless – no matter how much he might have disliked her going on that journey, it _has_ brought closure, with this visit possibly having been the last step. Without hesitation, she looks at him.

"Yes, I want to have children with you. There are no guarantees that it will work out, there never are, but I'd love to try getting pregnant again, with you."

The blood rushing in his ears, Jim feels like embracing the whole universe, but for now he just starts with Dael, pulling her close. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The whole damn universe.

***

The news that Dael and Jim want to try for another baby comes as no surprise to their partners. However, it has quite an amusing effect on the younger couple – maybe more on Jim than Dael, but she looks like a very enthusiastic partner in crime whenever Chris gets a glimpse of their _hot monkey sex_ , as an Academy friend of his would've called it. Of the days they have together, Jim and Dael seem to set out to fill eighty percent of it with sex, the remaining twenty with eating. Sleep is skipped, apparently overrated.

It isn't to Chris, he thinks on their second morning when he once more turns around in a bed that moves too much, giving the young couple a shove at last. "Go find another place, dammit," he grunts and is happy when they leave. When he opens his eyes again, he finds the doc curled around him, showing the first signs of waking up too.

"I really don't begrudge Jim his impeding fatherhood, but I'd sure like to get some beauty sleep," the doc mutters. "Once the baby's here, we'll all be hung-over all the time anyway."

"My thoughts exactly." Chris yawns.

They take their time leaving the bed, both a little too tired for any activities on this morning without a first coffee.

The others, it seems, don't even know the word _tired_ anymore, and seem to be busy in the shower, blocking it.

"Let's hope it works out pretty fast," Chris says, clutching his second cup of coffee. "I didn't even know Jim had such a strong libido."

"Trust me, I didn't know that either," the doc mutters.

Chris looks up from his cup. "You okay?" he asks, wondering whether Leonard feels relegated to a secondary position or something.

"Oh, yes," Leonard is quick to answer. "People often say that engaging in sex for the explicit goal of getting pregnant has a special feeling to it. I'm a doctor, I get to hear such things."

"And you don't mind... this?" Chris vaguely waves towards the bathroom.

"I want Jim to be happy. After the drama of the last several months, knowing that he's back to his old enthusiasm is great." The doc's mood sobers a little. "I just hope that this time, things will go according to plan. I'm not sure I can go through another round of depressed Jim."

"I like to think that even if something went wrong again, Dael and Jim would be able to handle it differently. We all would."

"Here's hoping..." Leonard downs his coffee, helping himself to a third cup.

Chris gets up and walks over to the large window. "Great view," he says, enjoying it for a moment.

"For me too," the doc says who suddenly appears right behind him, laying his hands on Chris' shoulders. Seems his man doesn't really mean the view of the planet underneath them but something else entirely.

Running his hands down Chris' back, the doc engages in a massage that's both relaxing as well as strangely erotic. Leaning back against his lover, Chris invitingly spreads his legs a little farther. As hoped for, the doc's fingers settle around his growing erection and stroke it purposefully all along its length. It has a powerful effect, Chris notes as all his available blood rushes down, leaving him light-headed and breathing more heavily.

_"You're so hot, you're one of the sexiest men I know, love to see you getting all horny in my hands…_ " A stream of whispered compliments underlines the touches that soon develop from stimulating to almost too intense, but only when the doc seems satisfied with length he's grown to, all hard and leaking a little, does he whisper in Chris' ear, "Lean against the glass."

Inhaling shakily, Chris obeys, putting his hands against the front. It's a good thing that these windows are opaque from the outside – even though chances are tiny that something would pass by, he'd rather not give a show to anyone but the doc whose intense look at him he catches in the glass.

Fingers spread his cheeks, running along his ass that is still a little sensitive from their nightly activities.

"Does it hurt?" his perceptive lover asks.

"Nothing a dash of lube won't fix," Chris says, putting his forearms against the glass and leaning his forehead against them while spreading his legs wider. For a second, the fingers leave him; then they return with cool lube.

"Sorry for the temperature," the doc mumbles, but as he quickly massages it around and into the ring muscle, the lube instantly heats up.

"No complaints," Chris says softly. "None at all," he adds with a light groan as fingers, two or three maybe, slip in and push as far as they can before the doc's broad palm stops them. Closing his eyes and rolling his head to the side to find an even more comfortable position, Chris loses sight of his lover, but he can imagine the doc's look, has seen the breathtaking mixture of _concentrated_ and _hungry_ often enough. More fingers are added, and while he can take them easily – damn, he's become a size queen in his old age – it's not really helpful for what he actually wants now, the doc's beautiful cock up his ass. No use in getting too stretched out to enjoy the ride.

"Enough preparation," he mutters. "Give me all you've got."

The doc chuckles. "Well, it's not as much as your porn star has, but I'm glad you still want me."

"Idiot," Chris says with a bit of edge. "If you don't know by now why I want you, then – ah…"

"Better?" he's asked huskily once the doc is in balls-deep, but he's quite out of words at that point, only grunts appreciatively. One hand settles on his hip, one on his left shoulder, the fingers just reaching his lips and teasing them into a kiss – then his lover starts fucking him, slow and easy as if they've got all the time in the world.

And maybe they have that, now that they're all reunited and together and things haven't been as perfect in a long time. The relationship all good, the sex all good, and this almost as perfect as a certain other fuck against a window…

"Stop thinking," the doc says, underlining the order with a harder shove.

"Just remembered something good," Chris mutters, smiling against his forearms. "Thought about Jim, how he fucked me against the window back in the cabin, on our first vacation together. Outside the snowy wonderland, inside the two of us…"

"I remember," the doc says, slightly breaking the stride of his rolling hips. "Listened to it from the bedroom… was so happy for the two of you…" He leans forward, pressing a kiss against Chris' shoulder. "Shit, we got it really bad, don't we?"

"Yes," a third voice comes in, and the doc stops talking, the words replaced by the tell-tale sound of a deep, wet tongue duel. 

Chris turns his head to catch a glimpse of Jim to his right.

"Love to see you like this," Jim says and draws close, claiming Chris' mouth for a long kiss. "So hot and horny that you stop thinking."

"Actually, he was thinking a damn lot," the doc grouches.

"Well, then, keep working, Bones," Jim says without any intention of leaving. His hands reach out, running down Chris' body, caressing his ass, nudging a nipple. Between this and the awesome ride the doc takes him on, Chris doesn't last very long before he comes harshly, spilling all over the doc's helping hand around his cock. Sagging against the window, he rests in a double embrace for a moment to find his breath again.

Only when he turns around is he suddenly aware of their silent fourth, Dael, folded on the couch in one of his old tees' and giving him a smile. It's so stupid to still feel a little weird about her watching when the doc tops him, Chris chides himself, but some old habits seem to die hard. To make up for his first impulse, he joins her on the couch after a last kiss with the doc, drawing her into an embrace when he's seated. A small collection of breakfast foods is arranged on the low table, and he takes the cup of coffee she offers him.

"I love watching you," Dael says into his ear. "It's a big turn-on for me." Taking his free hand, she puts it between her legs, rolling her groin upwards in an inviting gesture.

"Hmm, if that's the outcome, I guess I should stop feeling weird about it," Chris chuckles, and quickly downs the coffee to get his hands – and mouth – free for better use.

***

Time flies when you're having fun, and suddenly it's evening. With only five hours left, the big event they've planned is slowly getting closer, and Chris nods at Dael when she nudges him over the dinner that they eat in the suite, all four close to starving after having spent all day on sex. Once they're done and the dishes are beamed away, Dael asks their men to stay seated while Chris gets up, returning with a small box in his hands.

He puts it down on the table without opening it, before sitting down again. "I brought something with me... in fact, I've had them for a long time now, and I think we should put them to their intended use." At his side, Dael smiles.

Possibly it would be the proper procedure to open the box himself, but that's something Chris can't bring himself to do right now because that would really smell of a damn old-fashioned, straight-up proposal.

Thankfully, their men are too curious for their own good. After exchanging a gaze with Leonard, Jim picks it up and opens it. "Rings?"

"These are the rings I bought with Dael before she left for her Intel mission. Dael and I have worn them since then, but I always intended to... well, make it about more than just the two of us. If you want that too."

The two men sit in dumb silence for a moment, then Jim's eyes light up and the doc's face flushes to a sweet red.

"A foursome marriage? Oh dear, Starfleet Public Relations will hate us forever." Jim springs to his feet. "Of course we will. Chris... " Jim pulls him up and embraces him intensely. "Thank you so much for everything. For letting me in."

"You let me in in the first place," Chris mutters against Jim's chin. "Thanks for keeping up with me through all the bad times." His lover releases him, only to have the doc take his place, half-crushing Chris in his trademark hug.

"We just can't keep away from you," Leonard says, then kisses him deeply. "From both of you. Thanks so much."

Next to them, Jim and Dael are tightly wedged together, their kiss getting amusingly out of hand for a moment before they manage to part, with Dael's hair all messed up and a sheepish smile on Jim's face.

"What have you planned? An Andorian wedding?"

Chris shakes his head. "Believe me, you wouldn't want that. Andorians are extremely conservative, contrary to what the general Earth public thinks. Just because they've got a foursome marriage doesn't mean they're in the least flexible when it comes to relationships. No, we talked to Doctor Vlian'i and there's a Deltan temple on this station where we can have a special bonding ceremony. I can't pronounce its name but it translates to _'of one heart_ ' and sounded very appropriate for us. They're usually closed on this day, but they made an exception for us as this is _obviously_ _a state of emotional emergency_." Chris makes air quotes.

"Emotional emergency, I love that!" Jim laughs, one arm around Dael, one around the doc. "When do we leave?"

"Ten minutes," Dael says. "So hush now and hurry up, guys!"

They all scramble to the shower and are dressed up and ready to go in time.

"Nothing like 'fleet training to teach punctuality," Chris says, eyeing his shiny partners. "You wouldn't believe how crazy Iro can drive me with his tendency to be late for the most important meetings."

"You'd think that would hurt his business," the doc wonders as they leave the room.

"You'd think that, but it doesn't. Maybe people take it as a sign of weakness – or on the contrary, as a sign of his dominance – but in any case, it seems to work in his favor."

They walk down towards the corridor that leads to the turbolift that ends near the Deltan temple.

When Chris stands in front of the temple, it feels remarkably like standing in front of the stairway back on his wedding day with Dael, and for a moment he halts his steps, needing to take a deep breath. But this time, it's not only Jim next to him but also the doc on his other side, both lacing their arms with his.

"No taking flight, Chris," Leonard says.

"No," Chris agrees, chest tight. "I won't. This is what I've wanted for a long time."

Dael stands at the door, smiling at the three of them. He wishes she'd come closer, but Jim is faster in saying so. "You're missing here, Dael."

"I'm always as close as I need to be," she answers cryptically but walks over to them anyway, kissing Chris, then the doc, then Jim at last, before turning back to the door. "Come on, we're late already!" She vanishes inside.

"Yes, mom!" The doc laughs, unlacing from the others. "Wait a few years, and she'll kick all our asses."

"Not sure I'm into boot-kicking on the passive side," Chris can't help saying when they follow her. It earns him a punch to his arm from the doc.

"Get serious, dammit," his man complains. "Because if this is all just fun for you, I need to say –"

Chris reaches out, dragging the doc into a silencing kiss. "Never been more serious, doc," he says quietly upon releasing him. "Love you, Leonard."

"Love you too," the doc replies throatily.

"Welcome to the temple of N'iihn," a melodic voice says, nudging them out of their little twosome moment. They all focus on the Deltans who stand in the center of the room "I'm Tarin'ii and I will guide you through the gate of compassion," the female priestess says. "These are my family," she then introduces the two women and two men who are standing at her sides, "and they will support you in your bonding. Please, walk into the middle and form a circle."

Chris walks where she asks them to, taking his place on what looks like a ring on the floor. At first, the doc is at his right side, but after a moment, Tarin'ii rearranges them so that he ends with Jim on his right, Dael on his left and Leonard in front of him.

"Lace your hands with your neighbors," the woman says. Jim's grip is strong and tight, while Dael's is strong and still gentle. Chris looks into Leonard's eyes, and it feels like sparks flying between them across the circle. Suddenly, he can barely breathe, and a slight surge of panic rushes in – but then there are two more hands on his shoulders as the other Deltans join them, and their touch eases the panic away, substituting for it warmth and a strangely ethereal feeling of love that surpasses the physical.

"Close your eyes," the priestess says, and Chris delves into one of the most amazing experiences of his whole life.

***

"I don't know what to call it," Jim says as they sit in a quiet corner of a restaurant later, all four still dazed from the ceremony and in the same positions around the table. "I've had mind melds with Spock but this was… so much deeper. So much more… encompassing. Just incredible."

"Yes," Leonard agrees, his eyes resting on Chris' face. "You okay, Chris?" he asks.

"Yes," Chris says. He's got one hand on Dael and one on Jim, because if he let them go, it might bring an end to what feels like an emotional string that attaches him to the other three, a band of love that is wrapped around his heart and runs all through his chest.

"No danger of shutting down?"

"Excuse me?"

"Like on the _Enterprise_ ," Leonard says. "Too much of a good thing, remember?"

Jim frowns at Leonard; Dael, who doesn't know about that episode, looks a little confused.

"Ah." Chris shifts his attention inward. "No," he says, almost surprised himself because the question is more than reasonable – he'd definitely been in a similar state of bliss to the one he'd been in onboard the _Enterprise_ which had caused his walls to rush up without his choice and out of his control. But it hadn't happened this time.

"It could've been, but it isn't. It feels just incredibly good and perfect."

"Good." The doc smiles, relieved.

"Did I miss something?" Dael asks Chris on the way back to the suite.

"Nothing important," he says, and it truly isn't.

***

Of course, the hoped-for pregnancy doesn't miraculously happen over their short reconnection, and so the two couples part with hope for the next meeting.

Actively including a child in their plans again markedly changes everyone's thinking. The plan to return to Earth and find a piece of land to settle on is back on the table, and Chris and Jim, the two people with the most knowledge and interest in the selection start scanning openings. On the medical front, Vli and the doc set up a nutrition plan for Dael that should optimally support fertility and hormonal balance.

Everything they do is suddenly oriented towards a common goal, and that has effects on Chris' whole life. Including his sex life – resuming the meetings with Bjarne that had already became rare before they'd left for their foursome reconnection would feel too strange, now that Dael is the center of his emotional attention. 

_How do you break up when it wasn't a real relationship in the first place_ , Chris wonders when he goes to the gym three nights after their return. He's unusually quiet through the routines but Bjarne doesn't start a chat either. They're almost done when someone else enters the room, watching them.

It's a guy Chris has only seen from a distance before, a young human male from the depths of George's troop of financial controllers.

And he doesn't appear to be here for training.

Chris finishes his last machine, then gets up and looks at Bjarne, smiling a little. "Your guy?" he asks, tilting his head towards the gym door.

Bjarne nods. "I didn't really know how to tell you, so I thought meeting here would be easiest. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've wracked my brain thinking of how to tell you that my situation has changed. After having met our men, I'm fully back into relationship mode and don't really feel like having sex with anyone but my tribe."

"I feel similarly. Needed some time to feel comfortable with the idea of having a new relationship, but now that I'm in it, I want nobody but Mikael."

"I'm happy for you," Chris says, drawing Bjarne into a loose hug.

"If you want switch trainers, feel free, I won't feel hurt," Bjarne says when they draw apart.

"I'll think about it," Chris says. He's pretty sure he wouldn't have a problem still training with Bjarne, but the offer sounds as if maybe the man would prefer him to start with the other circus trainer. "Thanks for the good times, see you around."

"Same to you."

They part with a nod, and Chris goes to change his clothes. When he leaves the gym area, Mikael is waiting at the door. On seeing Chris, he pushes himself off the wall he'd been leaning against.

Looked at him more closely, he's an extremely handsome guy – all lean muscles, long blond hair, and skin like alabaster. Good thing that Chris is pretty sure that looks hadn't been Bjarne's main reason for choosing this man, or he might feel a little wounded. 

"I just wanted to thank you," Mikael says, with the cutest little Russian accent Chris had ever heard from anyone, including Chekov. "I don't think I would ever have had a chance with him if not for you making him trust in people again... and in himself."

Chris smiles. "You're welcome. I wish you two all the best, take care of each other."

"We will," Mikael says, an intense gleam in his bright green eyes, and then darts away to join Bjarne on his way out.

_Young love_ , Chris thinks, amused, as he returns to Dael, finding her half-asleep curled on the couch. He doesn't need young love, he wants to keep this love and all the love he's already found in his men. Lowering himself in front of the couch, he gently scoops her up in his arms and carries her to bed.

She groggily struggles a little against him, muttering, " 'm too heavy, I can walk."

"I'm strong enough again to carry you around any day," Chris boasts and lets her down on the mattress. Leaning over her, he kisses her, catching a taste of coffee and something he hadn't tasted in quite a while.

"Oh, you've got _rhlliene_?"

"Someone gave me a package, thought she'd done me a favor... but I don't really like it anymore," Dael says, clearly waking up again. "Threw the rest away." She opens her eyes. "You wouldn't have wanted it, would you?"

"No, I never really cared for it." He kisses her again, feeling his arousal growing. Damn, it would take some time to get rid of the conditioning that now connects physical training and sex for him. But when he starts to roll away, there's suddenly her hand on his crotch. He pushes into it with a small moan.

"Can't leave you so unsatisfied..." Dael whispers and nips at his earlobe.

She nails him through the mattress with her newly acquired _better-than-the-real-thing_ -dildo dialed on max, until they're both completely wiped out and satiated.

***

Two months later, Jim hits a base nearby the circus for an officer training and Dael joins him. The few nights and one short weekend are enough to make it happen, and after waiting four weeks, Dael informs the three men of the pregnancy in a conference call with the _Enterprise_.

Jim's happy glow would put a nova to shame.


	3. Chapter 3

As the vanguard of the tribe's return to Earth, Chris and Dael make planetfall on an unusually rainy day, the clouds dark and intimidating above San Francisco. Despite having traveled on one of IXOS' luxurious shuttles, it's an unspectacular arrival. Without the Admiral's stripe, _Mister_ Christopher Pike is largely invisible, a strange experience after all those years when Chris returned to 'fleet members waiting for him, even if only to get dismissed by him; he rarely needed babysitting.

"Do you miss it?" Dael asks perceptively as she catches him gazing at a group of lieutenants nearby.

"A little," Chris admits. He wouldn't have remained in the 'fleet for so long if status and hierarchy hadn't had some effect on him. And frankly, at times he still misses those clear hierarchies, when he's meandering in the feigned flat structures of the circus. Of course, he's had got enough training and experience to analyze the dominance structures of cultures, but it's a little tiring having to perform such an analysis actively all day. While it's improved markedly since the beginning, the _resocializing_ Eric had joked about when his friends had visited him for the first time is still in full swing and would take a while longer. 

Dael looks at him. "Isn't the freedom worth it?"

Self-consciously, Chris shakes his head and shrugs. "Haven't made use of that a lot so far. Having too much leisure time never ended well for me, so joining the circus was going for the safe option. Despite the growing pains."

She smiles. "Unless you want to go the apartment right away, I've got an idea for tonight."

"What idea?"

"It's a surprise. Do you trust me?" She shoulders her bag.

"Sure." Chris takes his own bag. "Lead the way."

He's surprised when they walk to a motorcycle rental place; somehow he'd forgotten that she'd got her motorcycle driver's license while they were together. Their two bags are quickly strapped to the rear of the large machine she had pre-booked, and the two sets of protective gear are the right sizes, no problem with that.

Still… standing in front of the large machine, he's suddenly not quite sure about the endeavor. Laying a hesitant hand on the seat, he looks at Dael.

She looks back at him from the driver's position. The protective gear looks hot on her, making her more broad-shouldered and meaty. He licks his lips.

"You said you trust me," she challenges him, helmet in hand. 

"Not sure I trust myself," Chris mutters. "My control-freak self, that is." He's a cool passenger in cars, but the few times he sat on the back of a machine, he hated every minute of it. On the other hand, although he has a license himself, he hadn't ridden a bike in literally ages.

"Jim rode with me. Maybe you'd like to call him and ask how it was?" Dael asks calmly.

Her trick is absolutely transparent… and works anyway, as he slaps the helmet onto his head and climbs up behind her. Closing his arms around her waist, he brings up his feet. With a smirk he notes her brief struggle to keep the bike balanced, but then she steps on the gas and they hit the dusty street.

They stop hours later, far out in the Mojave.

"You're a really good rider. Thank you," Chris says when he's out of the helmet. "And it's fantastic to be here," he says admiringly; they're on a small hill with a good view all around. She secures the bike and climbs down from it, removing her own head gear.

"This could be ours," she says and suggestively waves her hand in a circular motion.

"Really?" He holds his breath as he looks around again, taking in the colors of the soil, the vegetation. "Where are we? Is it the land that I had reserved back then?" He'd canceled that transaction, of course, but maybe his tribe had done some magic.

"No, sorry, we couldn't get that one, but it's close to it."

"You already bought it?"

"It can't be bought, only leased. It's a wildlife protectorate, very rare. Jim found it. The housing area would only give us a temporary lease, for ninety-nine years. Would you mind that?"

Chris thinks about it for a moment. He'd been able to sell the land he had inherited from his parents when it had been necessary; what he wants is a place to call home, but that could be wherever they settle together, here or space or whatever.

"No, I wouldn't. It's beautiful here. Did you already sign anything?"

"The doc pre-signed something to give us more time for a decision, but you'll be the one to finalize it." Dael joins his side, lacing one arm into his as they look at the soil together.

"Maybe Jim should sign…" Chris begins, but stops when Dael frowns at him.

"We're still _your_ tribe, Christopher. Nothing will ever change that. You're the one that keeps us all together."

"I won't be here forever," he says, much too aware of his mortality again after the events of Ommm.

"Then we'll see. But until then, you are still our top dog. The leader. Live with it, Admiral." She kisses him.

It's hard to find words, considering how mellow he suddenly feels. "Okay," he murmurs at last, embracing her. They stare at the land for a while longer, until the sun sets and it's getting colder.

Dael yawns. "We can ride back to the city or hit Harm's farm. I called them and they'd welcome us. I've heard that Ashaire badly needs some exercise, so we could go riding tomorrow."

Chris runs one hand over his face, saying – once he trusts his voice again – "Fuck, Dael, you are incredible."

"I hope so. Oh, and if you want to return the favor? I'll take the fuck. A good, long one. Think you're up for it?" Dael chuckles and moves out of the embrace to return to the machine.

Glad that she's offering him such an easy escape from his overly emotional state, Chris playfully glares at her. "I might be older, but I've had a lot of training. A lot," he repeats for emphasis, cupping his groin in an unambiguous gesture.

"We'll see," Dael says challengingly, lifting a warning forefinger. "And no taking my pregnancy as an excuse for lame hetero stuff, or you'll be in trouble." She locks the helmet in place.

"Yes, sir," Chris says, joining her on the seat. This time around, the pregnancy is so unproblematic and still so invisible that he mostly forgets about it, which makes life more relaxed for both of them.

She later complains about his hands being all over her body during the ride, but hey, in love and war, anything goes. It's all her fault anyway that he feels in heaven and turned on to boot, and so she might as well suffer from the fallout.

***

It's very early the next morning when Chris wakes up. Dael is still deep asleep next to him, and so he quietly slips out of bed, moving into the kitchen. In contrast to the visit with Jim, when they'd had one of Harms' usual guest rooms, this time Harms had insisted on them taking the two-room tourist apartment that comes with its own kitchen and coffee maker. And Chris could really use a strong coffee after that hot night – hot enough to leave his muscles sore, a rare event.

Finding Dael still deep asleep when checking her minutes later, he decides to give into his urge to visit the stables right away. He hasn't seen Ashaire since his pre-wedding trip with Jim, and now that he's so close, he can admit that he missed it a lot, both Ashaire and the promise of a day in the desert the stallion brings with it. Putting on a tee, jeans, sneakers – nothing in his outfit is particularly fit for a riding day, but it would work – he takes his jacket and quietly leaves.

Despite the early hour, the stable isn't empty – Harm's older daughter is shoveling hay into horse boxes.

"Good morning, Chris," she greets him over her shoulder, her focus still on the work. 

"Good morning to you, Aileen. Do you want any help?"

"No thanks, I just finished." She puts down the hay fork, then turns towards him for a handshake, her eyes briefly scanning him from tip to toe. "It's great seeing you in good health. Heard you're here for a ride, with your – wife?" Her slight confusion is understandable, she'd never seen him with anyone but men.

"Yes, Dael is my wife. Or more correctly, one of my partners. We just sealed the foursome marriage," Chris says, too proud of their achievement to keep quiet about it.

"Four, wow." Aileen shakes her head with a grin. "I've got enough on my plate with just one guy, no need for more."

"By the way, Dael was the one to ride Vivaldi when I had my accident."

"Oh, the poor girl. I was told she was riding for the first time – not the way one would want to start."

Chris nods. "Haven't been able to get her to ride with me since then. This will be a first – and it was her idea. How are Whitestar and Vivaldi, anyway?"

"Vivaldi is fine, we sold her to a neighbor. Whitestar unfortunately never really recovered and died four months ago. A pity, he was a beautiful horse." Aileen sighs. "Well – I guess you'll take Ashaire. As for Dael, we've got a new horse in the stable that should work for a beginner, calm and easy to ride. It's Dancer, over there."

The horse she waves towards is almost as dark as Ashaire. "A mare, three years old. Her original name is a mile long, she's quality bred."

"Sounds good." Chris eyes her – considering the possibility of breeding in the future, this might be quite an appropriate mare for his stallion.

"Fine. Let's get them cleaned and out into the corral for some warming-up," Aileen says, and they start working together.

The two horses are already saddled and ready when Dael comes out an hour later. She's not really dressed for a ride either, as they've both come with nothing but indoor clothes, but the day is sunny and dry and they'll survive it.

It's also clear that it's less the clothing situation than the simple prospect of going for a ride – despite herself being the one to suggest this trip – that makes her nervous. Keeping her distance from the two animals, Dael doesn't look very inclined to mount one.

"Jim rode with me," Chris says, amused. "Do you want to give him a call and ask –"

"Ass," Dael mutters and punches him lightly.

"You're welcome." He holds out Dancer's reins. "Let's just start with walking them, getting acquainted a little."

They walk for half a mile along the dusty trail, then Dael stops.

"You're sure there's no rain?" She squints into the distant sky.

Chris puts one hand over his heart. "I've read every forecast available to me, and I swear to whatever you want me to that the chance of rain here today is zero."

"Okay." She sighs deeply. "Help me up into the saddle."

"Sure!" He leaps towards her, holding the horse and the stirrups to ease her climb. Once she's seated, he gives her the reins. "You look great," he says.

"You've got a horse kink," Dael says with an exasperated sigh. "You'd love anyone who's sitting on a horse."

Chris smiles. "Sorry, you got the order all wrong. I love _you_ , and seeing you on horseback is making _you_ all the hotter." He strokes up her leg. Her face flushes around the tattoos, and she bites her lower lip.

He nods towards her with a smirk, then walks away to mount Ashaire. The stallion is very eager and energetic between his legs. He hopes he won't cause any trouble.

As if any of his wishes came easily true...

_All was fine until Ashaire started to gallop and my horse thought it needed to follow_ , Dael wrote in a message to their men later. _I felt seasick for an hour, but at least I managed to stay in the saddle._

It earns Chris a strong reprimand from both independently.

_She could've had another miscarriage, you idiot,_ the doc writes. _And if that had happened, all odds are off if Jim would have ever even spoken to you again._

_Could you please abstain from such outings for the time being?_ Jim's deep annoyance is tangible in every formal word. _I know it was her suggestion but I counted on you being especially careful, considering the circumstances._

After that, Dael might complain about Chris being back to his overprotective behavior, but he sure as hell prefers that to getting into serious trouble with the other two.

***

Jim and Leonard arrange their transfer from the _Enterprise_ , and in a strange deja-vu, all the plans they'd made eight months ago finally come to pass just as originally set up; Spock becomes the new captain of the _Enterprise_ , Jim gets a position with Mori, Leonard gets a research post – and at Iro's insistence, Chris takes vacation for a month but stays onboard with IXOS, a special project on Earth waiting for him. 

Chris signs for the land with Dael by his side (and very determined that once everyone is on Earth, the other three need to co-sign), and they go to celebrate at one of Arissa's parties, not knowing that they'd be treated as special guests there. They get an earful of "A Taste of Mondrian" live on stage and special autographs from the band, which – as some collector later enviously tells them – are worth a small fortune.

_Did you have sex with Norden?_ Jim asks later in a text message, and after Chris denies that, adds, " _You should have, he's hot._ "

It's just incredible.

For weeks, Chris can't help but wait for some shoe to drop, something bad to happen – he'd definitely been burned by the events of the last several years. But then there's That Week, and every ship and everybody is exactly on time. The doorbell rings at 1802 on an otherwise uneventful Wednesday evening, and then their partners are really there, to stay with them.

***

"In a way, I can't really believe yet," Jim says later, sitting on the couch, draped around Dael's shoulder, the happy glow as intense as on the day when Chris had delivered the news of Dael's first pregnancy to him. He rests one hand on her belly, the gesture both protective and a little possessive, and Chris smiles.

"How about getting a bit of fresh air on the terrace?" Leonard asks him, and Chris nods. Jim and Dael have started to talk quietly, and he wants to give them some privacy – while he gets to have the doc, his fabulous lover that he'd missed so much.

They take their time on kissing once they're out in the dark before moving on to other caresses, their fingers exploring each other as if it had been years, not months since they'd seen each other.

"You know you're addictive?" Chris whispers into the doc's ear. "Now that you're here, I don't think I'll ever let you leave again."

"Can't say I'd mind," the doc whispers back, his skilled surgeon fingers tracing the lines of the back pockets on Chris' tight jeans, all over his ass.

"Let me suck you." Chris suggestively runs his hands over the doc's enlarged bulge, massaging the tangible erection through the sleek uniform pants. "Let me get on my knees for you and eat your cock."

"You've spent too much time with other guys, your vocabulary got vulgar."

"Cock slut. Cock sucker. Cocksure…" Opening the zipper with one hand, Chris gets out the proud member, running his fingers over its already slippery head while nipping at the doc's throat.

"Definitely cocksure," the doc mutters and then just groans, out of words, as Chris gets down as promised, running his lips over the veins that pulse in his mouth. Chris himself is so hard already – in a way, he never ceases to be surprised about the effect the doc has on him, the way the man can just completely switch off his higher thinking. While his tongue and lips start their busy work, he palms his own erection with one free hand.

Soon, the doc moves against him, jerking his hips to get more of his beautiful cock buried into Chris' mouth. Chris fulfills his lover's demands until the first telltale shivers run along the doc's legs – then he abruptly pulls away.

"Fuck!" the doc whimpers.

"Exactly," Chris says breathlessly, the doc's delightful taste all over his lips and tongue. When he pulls down the doc's pants, he doesn't meet any resistance.

"Turn around, lean over the handrail," he orders huskily, and Leonard obeys – sure, he complains a bit, but that's part of the charm, as long as he turns so that Chris can bury his hungry tongue into the doc's ass, preparing this beauty for what he's got in mind. Taken by surprise, the doc jerks a little, but Chris' hands hold him tight, thumbs buried between the muscular cheeks to pull them apart and keep them in the optimal position for his adoration.

Three minutes in, the doc's reduced to quiet, needy moans. Another five in, to begging.

At last Chris gets up from his crouched position, palming his erection once more. The glans piercing dances between his finger, adding even further to his arousal. He makes sure he's slick enough for that well-trained ass in front of him, really not inclined to go hunting for lube now. "I'm going to fuck you," Chris says throatily, putting his left hand on the doc's hip. "I'm going to pin you down over this railing and fuck you until the neighbors look out, wondering who's getting it so goddamn good that he just can't stop whimpering and begging for more. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you're going to remember, tomorrow and every day to come, that you're mine too."

"Fuck, yes, Chris, oh shit, do it," the doc mutters in one plea as Chris pushes in for the first time, bottoming out in one long stroke. "Yes, more…"

"I'll give you more," Chris agrees softly. "So much more, and more, and more…" Underlining every _more_ with a hard push in, they're soon dancing precariously close to the edge, so Chris needs to slow down. Biting his bottom lip, he fights for control, his hip movements reduced to tiny jerks.

And also, he might be getting a little tired – it's been a while since he'd fucked anyone so hard for so long. Damn.

With a small sigh, Chris leans forward to relieve his overexerted back, stroking the doc's hard-on while he's at it.

"How about moving?" the doc whispers, obviously noticing his problem. "Let's get on the couch, and I'll ride you until you come, want to see your face when I make you come undone."

"Damn, yes." Chris inhales deeply. It takes all of him to pull out, but the doc makes up for it by turning around and shoving his tongue into Chris' mouth, licking all around it.

They walk into the apartment to find the living-room empty and the door of the _Jim &Bones_ room closed. For a fraction of a second Chris spends a thought on the other two, hoping they have a similarly great time reconnecting; then he lays down on the couch and forgets all about them as the doc, now completely out of his clothes, crouches over him on his knees and after just a few strokes for good measure glides down on his cock once more.

Chris rolls back his head, caught in the sensation.

"Like it?" the doc huffs with a laugh, a low-level challenge in his voice, and Chris blindly reaches out and captures the doc's hard-on with his fist.

"Do you?" he asks back, jerking it.

"God, yes," the doc whimpers, tilting forward for a moment to capture Chris' lips in a kiss. Then he sits up again and rides Chris just as promised, hard and deep, until they both come, seeing stars.

They need a while to rest afterwards, cleaning each other with a discarded shirt, then move to Chris' bedroom. They're barely settled in when there's a light knock on the door.

"Hey – may we join you?" Jim asks in a quiet voice.

"Of course," Chris says. They pull back the thin blanketss, making room. "In with you," the doc says, and their younger halves settle in next to them, Chris and Dael ending in the middle. 

"We need something for the doors," Dael mutters half-asleep. "Some kind of labels to show if others are welcome."

"Tomorrow, darling," Chris whispers, humming happily. Being wedged between Leonard and Dael is very close to his personal definition of heaven right now, and to think that they might have that for years to come… it's still so unbelievable, it can't quite be real.

***

Time runs quickly now, with overseeing the establishment of their new home and finding their own routines in the foursome relationship. Once a week, Dael needs a break from them and their overprotection and spends a night with Arissa, while the three others make the most of their boys' night out, hanging out at the club or having a hot, kinky sex fest at home.

Everything is quite perfect until the day when Chris learns that Spock is in town, and invites him to dinner.

"The doc might not like it," Dael says aptly when he informs her so that they can plan appropriate vegetarian courses together. "Why didn't you talk to them first?"

"It was all settled in my head after I had a little chat with the doc when he visited me," Chris says. "But you're right, I need to tell them."

"You invited Spock to dinner tomorrow?" Jim asks, surprised, at the end of their meal, the kitchen table still cluttered with dishes.

"Yes, I did," Chris says. All eyes reflexively turn to Leonard who looks rather unhappy all of a sudden, but doesn't say a thing, only stares down at his plate.

Rising to defend his husband, Jim says a little harshly, "I know it's your apartment, but you really should've asked us in advance. Why did you invite him?"

"I'm tired of keeping Spock at a distance, when we could be his chosen family. He's already become a part of us, thanks to Dael's and my experiences with him. He shouldn't be as alone in this universe as he is – right, Dael?"

"I agree," she says calmly.

"I told the doc already, and I'm telling you now – in the other timeline, Spock was in a relationship with both of you." Chris lets it sink in for a moment. Dael isn't surprised by the news at all; on Jim's face, however, the mask of command is suddenly firmly in place, giving nothing away.

"Now he's here, keeping an eye on the _Enterprise_ to protect you – hell, he even protects me, when he can, and he deserves better than us pushing him away."

They sit in a brief silence before Jim asks flatly, "And just how much of a family feeling did you think of? You want me to bed Spock?"

"If that's what you want," Chris says simply.

"And what did you have in mind for Dael?" 

"Dael has already made up her own mind, she doesn't need me for that," Chris says, noticing Leonard's slightly alarmed look with an inward sigh. This thing with Spock is really quite challenging for the doc, but Chris won't make it easier by convenient omissions that have a potential to result in more damage in the future.

Jim and the doc exchange a gaze. "It's your decision –" Leonard starts, but Jim shakes his head. "Let's talk about it later, Bones, just you and me."

"Good." Done in every sense of the word, Leonard gets up and moves his dish to the kitchen counter before walking out with a brief nod.

"Dammit, man," Jim states sharply when the door has closed, still in disbelief. "You're always one for surprises."

"Sorry," Chris says without feeling it. "In my head, it's been settled for awhile."

"I'm not saying it's a bad idea," Jim says carefully. "It's just not a brilliant one either, in my opinion."

"I know. But it's too important to me – and Dael – to just wait until Leonard comes around one day. Chances are Spock will die long before that. He's an old man, Jim. A lonely old man."

Jim nods. "I know." He gets up. "Can you take care of things here? I'm going to talk to Bones."

"Sure. I wish you success."

"Thanks, I can use that," Jim says ironically and leaves the room.

"I think that went better than I feared," Chris says, sitting down next to Dael.

Dael shrugs, a clear _I don't know_ in the gesture. Then she yawns. "Let's clean up, I'm tired."

"Why don't you go to bed right now, I'll follow in a little while?" Chris suggests.

That she gives in instantly signals her true level of exhaustion. "Okay."

He removes the dishes, extensively cleans all of the kitchen. When he's almost done, Jim briefly joins him. "Seems we're going to be fine," Jim says coolly, "but I'd really like some warning beforehand next time you're going to throw such a bombshell at us. This could've gone really wrong."

"Promise," Chris says. "Sorry about that, it just seemed the easiest way to do it."

"We're going to spend the night together, Bones and I. That okay by Dael and you?"

"Sure."

"Good. See you tomorrow." Jim briefly touches Chris' arm, then turns on the spot and leaves the kitchen.

They definitely have to work on their balance within the foursome, Chris thinks, so that every couple can spend some quality time together without feeling the need to apologize for it. But first things first, and if they survive tomorrow night's dinner with his anticipated results, he'll be a happy man.

***

If Chris believed in omens, accidentally burning the main dish would probably count as bad sign, but not being superstitious, he just makes a call and orders some tasty alternatives from one of their favorite restaurants.

"It'll be here in five minutes," he says when he joins the others in the living room.

They start dinner with Vulcan antipasti, the four of them and their guest, who regally sits at the head of the table, dressed in a subtly patterned Vulcan robe. Only Chris, Dael and Spock have engaged in actual talking so far, about some new developments on the Vulcan colony. It's one of the least loaded available subjects. Jim is unusually quiet, giving Leonard guarded, concerned glances once in a while.

When the meal arrives, the subject of conversation changes.

"Romulan pepper," Spock says with what might count as glee for a Vulcan, readily offering his plate so that Chris can load it with two pieces of the spicy vegetable.

Dael nods. "I like them a lot, but most humans hate them. It's a hit-or-miss thing, I guess."

"I'm a miss," Chris has no problem admitting. "I'm just too Earth-bound for my own good, and will take French and Italian over Romulan any day."

"Same here," the doc mutters, taking some of the roasted turkey for himself.

Spock and Dael speak about Romulan food and related traditions for a moment, before Spock says, "In my past, I encountered many of these dishes for the first time when I was on Romulus for an undercover mission. I wanted to bring Vulcan philosophy to them, the teachings of Surak. Another _Enterprise_ captain was quite adamant in criticizing me for what he saw as my engaging in _cowboy diplomacy_. I had to remind him that I had learned from the best, a hundred years before he even took this same position." He fondly looks at Jim.

Leonard utters a small laugh, pointing his fork at his husband. "Damn, our Spock recently used exactly the same words to describe Jim's style. Even meant it as a compliment! I couldn't quite believe my ears."

"I rarely speak to my younger counterpart, but I've always hoped that he would grow to appreciate Jim's intuitive approaches to complex problems."

"Guess he did," Jim says, flushing a tad. "It's not like he's my First anymore, though, so I guess in the future he'll have to make his own creative leaps in thinking."

Not knowing what to say as follow-up, everyone falls silent again.

Beginning to think that despite his best intentions his plan would fall through, Chris pours his energy into restarting the conversation, meandering though subjects from galactic politics to one of his less secret IXOS project without really being able to get it going again.

It's sad, such a missed chance – Chris had been so sure that Jim would connect with Spock, if he could, but it seems that Leonard's aversion to the idea just doesn't make it possible. And so he's not surprised when after dessert passes equally uncomfortably, Spock gets up.

The old Vulcan laces his hands in front of his robe. "I came here tonight on Dael's and Christopher's request, but it has never been my intention to inflict myself upon you. I shall take my leave now. Rest assured that I will not approach you again, unless I need to convey important information to some of you."

But then it's the doc, of all people, who gets to his feet and stops him, standing face to face with Spock. They're quite evenly matched in height.

"Don't leave yet," Leonard says. "Please. I know I'm not always easy to get along with, but I – well, try me. Talk to me. To us."

"What do you want me to say, Doctor McCoy?"

"Is it true that you were in a relationship with both our counterparts?"

Spock's eyes dart to Chris, then back to the man in front of him. He regards Leonard for a moment.

"Yes. But that is not relevant for this timeline."

Leonard shrugs. "Leave it up to us to decide that. When you saw Jim, what did you feel?"

"I'm a Vulcan –" the old man begins.

"– and I know our Spock, and he's got feelings of a depth and strength that put the best of us to shame, so don't give me any bullshit," Leonard states. "What did you feel, Spock?"

The Vulcan looks away. "I felt… extraordinary happiness, despite the situation."

Chris holds his breath; right now, everyone else in the room is relegated to the position of watcher as the doc confronts the old man about feelings. This is about making sure what this Spock really wants – and it's about making sure that Jim will be safe with him, whatever they decide to do in the future.

"And this happiness made me careless; I engaged in the mind meld without properly controlling myself. Jim's mind was so well-known to me, the differences were no impediment to the depth I craved." Spock sighs almost inaudibly.

"I've apologized to him already, and I apologize to you now, Doctor – it was a severe breach of both control and trust and I accept your criticism for it. Not wanting to violate him again, or bring problems into your relationship, I decided to stay apart."

Leonard rolls his eyes. "Fucking self-sacrificing idiots, all of you Vulcans," he says with a glare. "You could've told us the truth years ago, instead of popping up like a symbol of doom and bad news every once in a while."

"The relationship between your counterpart and myself was quite antagonistic at the beginning, and we needed many years to learn to cherish our differences. I presumed that it would be the same in this universe, and saw no reason to spend time with you, when we would likely never reach the same level of understanding." Spock's gaze once again skitters over Chris. "Jim's and your need for companionship is met. I am content that Christopher and t'sai Dael are a part of your relationship in this universe. You are complete."

"Don't leap to assumptions, Spock. Don't think you know what we want, without ever discussing it with us," Leonard states. "Because I, for example, know that Jim would love to connect with you more than he was able to in the past. Isn't it right, Jim?"

"Yes – but only if you're okay with it, Bones," Jim replies instantly. "Never without your agreement."

"Well, you've got it now," Leonard says with finality and moves aside, ending up behind Chris' chair.

Spock stands very still, eyes on Jim.

Jim gets up. "Spock – ever since we met, you've been someone special to me. You accepted me like no one else, because you'd already seen and learned everything about the man I could be, even if it was in another universe. I've become a better man for that, trying to match the impossible achievements of your Jim."

"Dear Jim," Spock interrupts him roughly. "You have already accomplished so much in this timeline, you do not have to prove yourself to me in any way. And contrary to my captain, you've also managed the feat of having a fulfilling personal life. He didn't know about his son for the longest time – but you will have it all, a career and a family, and this is a great gift."

"Yes, it is. And I want to share it with you. _We all_ want you to share this with us."

"Your offer is gracious but I doubt its logic, Jim. As I said, you are already complete. I do not belong here. I would only be a burden for you." He turns towards Chris. "I shall truly take my leave now –"

"Don't, Spock," Jim says, sounding wounded. "Please."

Dael unexpectedly gets up, joining Jim's side. "Spock – I know that you care for Christopher and for Jim – and there's really no need for you to be alone. We have more than enough love for everyone. "

Without hesitation, she draws the old man into her arms, stroking his gray head, and that finally makes the Vulcan's control slip and his posture soften. He cradles her back, his eyes closing. Within an instant, Jim joins them, embracing Spock, embracing her.

"Chris –" Leonard says roughly, clamping one hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go," Chris says, taking the doc's hand.

His lover follows him without resistance.

***

Later, when they lay together, naked body on naked body, Leonard quietly wonders, "Aren't you concerned at all about Spock and Dael? She's old enough to be his… I don't know, great-great-great grandchild?"

"Vulcans don't care about age differences the way humans do, and I've stopped thinking about that too." Chris caresses Leonard's neckline with his fingers. "I'm not sure what she means to him, but she means _something_ , and that something is beyond age or sex."

"Hmm." Leonard hums sleepily.

"All will be well," Chris whispers, closing his eyes to the feel of Leonard's body next to his, its solid strength and manly form. "Sleep, my wonderful lover."

There's a last snort, but then Leonard's breathing changes. In a last effort, Chris drags the blanket over them, then joins the dreamless sleep.

***

Chris wakes up alone, taking his time to let the light of the day and the solidness of the bed beneath his touch convince him that he's awake and that all this is real… and then remembers what exactly had transpired last night, wondering if this is the moment he should become concerned.

_No_ , he decides. Not before he showers, so he does just that, then dresses in slacks and a shirt and pads into the corridor. There's Jim, leaning against the door frame to the living room and lifting one forefinger to his lips in a _hush_ signal as he notices Chris. 

Chris nods and proceeds to the kitchen, deciding that whatever happens he first needs an infusion of his fabulous brew before he can deal with anything, be it drama or triumph. Jim follows him a minute later.

"They speak," he says agitatedly as he bounces into the kitchen. "Bones and Spock – they sit on the couch and talk!"

"Wonders never cease," Chris says, curiously looking at the eggs boiling in the heating unit, apparently way overdone.

"What are you talking about?" Dael asks as she joins them. Chris can't help checking her all over – pale face, a little tired, loose tee and slack pants, but in a good mood. His sweeping gaze ends on her belly.

"Hey –" she states with a glare and crosses her arms in front of her. "Stop looking at me like that every day, both of you. Or I'm going to move out for the upcoming months."

"We'd never let you," Jim says with a brilliant smile and pulls her into an embrace.

Dael mutters some Romulan curse but allows him to kiss her before she moves on to Chris, slinging her arms around his hips from behind.

"So, what wonder were you talking about?" she whispers into his ear, her movements rocking the cup of coffee in his hand.

"The doc and Spock, speaking," he answers.

"Oh. I really hope Leonard comes around."

"Don't we all," Jim agrees. "Sometimes I wish Bones were less complicated but then he wouldn't be my Bones anymore."

"Very true," Leonard agrees as he walks through the door, Spock right behind him. "I'm starving. Chris, stop torturing those poor eggs, I bet they've been ready for minutes. One of these days, I'll teach you how to make proper eggs. And dammit Jim, you could've set the table in the meantime. Dael, get a vitamin drink, you look like the dead. I can't believe how disorganized you all are, considering you're 'fleet officers and –"

With a shake of his head, Chris walks up to him, puts his hands on the doc's face and pulls him into a long, wet kiss.

"Love you too," he says as he sets Leonard free.

"I want to tell you a story," Spock says halfway through breakfast, and four pairs of eyes focus on him.

"In another life, I had an adopted daughter," he says. "She was half Vulcan, half Romulan. I found her on a planet when I was part of a rescue team, sent out from Vulcan to follow the traces of abducted Vulcans. We found them all dead, victims of Romulan experiments. Only a few lost children were alive who had never known anything but violence and the fight for survival. She was one of them, and I gained her trust. I took her with me and spent two years getting closer to her. I could not be with her as long as I wanted to but I made sure she would grow into a self-assured person, despite the prejudice full Vulcans showed towards her for her slightly more visible emotions. She was a full member of my House the day she joined Starfleet."

Chris can feel the tangible pride in Spock's voice and shares Spock's feeling, although it's not his success alone that Dael managed a similar feat. From the corner of his eyes, he can see her smiling at him, and he captures her hand on the table.

"Many things happened – we grew apart over time, by nobody's fault. She had her life, I had my own, with the men I loved. They died, one earlier, one later. She came to see me, and we started to get closer again. She offered to stay with me, as my wife. I could not accept it – not for any moral reason, by Vulcan standards it would have been acceptable; but because I felt I would hurt the memory of the men that had been my other halves. I deprived myself and her of a future together because a part of me still lived in the past."

Spock inhales deeply. "It is possible that in this timeline, I made the same mistake. Always reasoning with logic in keeping apart, I attempted to fill the emptiness with work and travel. As if never staying in one place meant I was moving forward. I would never have sought you out if not for Dael and Christopher, who became the connection between my past and your future. Jim – Leonard – I apologize for my flawed reasoning that created unnecessary tension between you. I feared you might invite me in because you felt obligated. And you aren't obligated to me, for anything at all.

"Dael – you are so unlike my own protégé and yet so similar in many regards. I feel honored to have been invited by you. It was your action that showed me that the four of you have really agreed on this, and that was the moment when I finally allowed myself to consider the unthinkable." 

Spock halts, obviously unable to find the right words. Chris sympathizes; the way his own chest feels tight and tense, he wouldn't be able to speak either. The faces of the others mirror the emotional intensity of the moment.

"I have been accused of favoring overly long speeches at times. So let me end with this: thank you for your gracious invitation, for the offer to become a part of this family. Thank you for a night that reminded me of the true value of living instead of merely existing. And thank you for making a dream come true that I would not have dared to dream." Spock looks at all of them, one after the other. "I accept."

"You're welcome," Chris manages, his voice rough, when nobody else finds words.

Leonard looks away, angling for a handkerchief. "Trust a Vulcan to make me cry, dammit," he murmurs, clearing his nose.

Jim briefly reaches out, running two fingers over Spock's hand before drawing back.

Unable to stand the intense emotions in the room any longer, Chris gets up. "Anyone for a fresh cup of coffee?" he asks loudly, everyone quick to answer.

An hour later, Spock has to leave. "I will return," he promises as he stands next to the door, ready to step out.

"We wouldn't mind hearing from you once in a while," Jim says. At his side, Leonard nods in agreement. "Drop us a note, will you?"

"I will," Spock agrees. He makes a ta'al, and the four of them answer the same. "Live long and prosper," the Vulcan says.

"Same to you," Chris says, while Dael utters something in Vulcan.

And then Spock is gone, and the four of them stand in the corridor, not quite knowing how to proceed.

"Dael, how about a walk to the duck pond?" Chris asks with a sudden need to go out and get some fresh air.

"Great idea."

"I know a ploy when I see it," Leonard grumbles, but Jim pulls his husband close, whispering something into his ear.

"Okay… fine. Whatever you want," the doc relents, and the last thing Chris sees of them is a rather deep kiss.

Dael and he spend an hour at the duck pond, and the next two in their twosome bed, where Chris gives his woman a thoroughly good time, driven by the need to celebrate his own, beautiful life and love.

No surprise that they're all completely fucked out when they meet again at dinner time.

***

It's a funny way of living at the moment; although Chris isn't exactly retired, he's reduced his amount of work for IXOS by two-thirds for now, and all of it on quite a flexible schedule. This leaves most days free to spend with Dael, while their men are busy organizing their new careers and getting settled on Earth.

They do all the things they never really found the time for in the past – or maybe, also didn't have the inclination for. Shopping, sitting down somewhere and ordering a cup of coffee, watching people pass by. Still having one of the most diverse populations on Earth, San Francisco is an awesome place for that.

On this late morning, though, the table neighbors grate on Chris' nerves. One woman tells her female friend lengthily about her abortion, and how easy it had been. It's fine, he absolutely thinks it's a woman's choice if and how to proceed with a pregnancy, but Dael really doesn't need to be reminded of that event in her life. He's ready to walk over and tell the two to shut up when they leave of their own accord.

"It's okay, Christopher," Dael says, putting her calming hand on his.

"Really?"

"Yes."

The one unanswered question that he felt never able to ask since her return. "Did you ever find out...?" He's glad when she knows what he's talking about without him putting it into words.

Dael shakes her head. "No. There wasn't a trace of it in the files on Galan VI. By now I think it never happened."

"How do you mean that, it never happened?" Chris asks surprised.

"I know Leonard was very sure, and he's a really good doctor... but when I talked about it with Vli, she told me that in her opinion, the scans were inconclusive and that she probably wouldn't have told me about the possibility of an abortion." She shows a small smile. "It doesn't really matter. I don't mind that I went on my journey, it was necessary, and I don't think I would have done that without this additional reason. No need to tell Leonard."

He takes her hand, squeezing it. "If I shouldn't, then I won't. But I'm glad to learn that he might've been wrong." It won't make all the other shit of her past undone, but knowing that this one cup has passed her is a relief to Chris. Besides, some of the possible explanations would've been outside of Chris' comfort zone… all the better if the event never had existed at all.

***

At last they have the inevitable naming discussion.

Leonard bows out quickly. It leaves Jim and Chris arguing, trying to convince each other that the other one's family name would be the better choice.

"Kirk's a doomed name," Jim states. "Always die fucking young. No kids should be forced to have that name."

"Pike isn't much better," Chris says.

"What about your name?" Leonard states, waving towards Dael who's all caught up in reading, pretending not to follow the discussion.

"My former last name will not be used," Dael states categorically. "It is gone."

"See," Jim says. "That only leaves Pike. Suck it up, Chris. You're our pack leader anyway."

"I agree," Dael says and gets up. "Pike it will be." She caresses Chris's face. "If you can live with that…"

Chris captures her fingers, then looks at them all. "Well, if it's got to be…"

Leonard snorts. "One down, one left to go. First names?"

"How about David?" Jim says. "I always liked the name."

Remembering Spock's ominous warning from long ago, Chris wonders how to divert Jim from the idea when Leonard says, "Not David, Jim. Please. Can we find something really new, not Sam, George, John, and what not?"

They end with _Raymond_. "Crisp and cool," Leonard says. "Captain Ray Pike, I can hear it tingling in my ear already." He makes an exaggerated salute.

Despite his reluctance to use Pike as the family name, Chris quietly agrees that it does have a great ring to it.

*******

Their little wonderland lasts another two weeks, until one Sunday morning shortly before their move to the new house. The doc and Chris had enjoyed a round of lazy morning sex which had kept them in bed for longer than their younger partners. Now the doc is having a shower while Chris dresses up, getting ready to join the others. The moment he opens the bedroom door, he can hear Jim's unusually agitated voice coming from the kitchen.

_"Two years, you promised! If you leave now, this promise is worth shit. You can't –"_

In a few fast steps Chris walks to the kitchen entry. He only needs a fraction of a second to oversee the scene – Dael standing in the distant corner, her face white around the tattoos and her body language screaming of her distress, with Jim blocking her path to the door while snarling at her – before acting.

"Jim," Chris says sharply, interrupting the ongoing monologue. "Get out."

Jim whirls around, and his expression has little resemblance to Captain Kirk and much more to _Cadet_ Kirk in a bad moment, defiant and ready to punch the face of anyone who crosses him the wrong way.

"Out with you," Chris repeats again, putting all of his former 'fleet weight into his voice. "Now." That does the trick – swallowing down a growl Jim stomps past him and vanishes around the corner.

Chris quickly approaches Dael, choosing the path around the table to leave her the option of walking out. But she's leaning towards him in wordless invitation, and so he takes her into an embrace, feeling her tremble under his touch. He's upset with Jim – their partner should really know better than to act like that, no matter the cause.

"What happened?" he asks softly once Dael feels more relaxed against him.

She nods towards the PADD on the table. Chris takes it, skimming the contents. It's a message with an invitation.

"What the hell happened?" the doc asks from the door, hair still wet, a towel around his hips. "Haven't Jim seen act like that since forever."

Chris waves with the PADD. "Dael received an invitation from Spock to attend a conference on Saturn for a week. It's by the IDIC Foundation, the organization for Vulcan refugees that supported Dael back then." He vaguely remembers having met its founder once, one Dr. Aristele M'Benga.

"Ah," Leonard says, worrying his bottom lip. "I guess you'd like to attend, Dael?"

She lifts her head. "I wanted to," she says flatly. "But I guess I can't."

"Didn't you talk about that subject when we met on Visha III?" Chris wonders.

Dael pulls away, lacing her arms in a self-hug. "I thought we did. Apparently, he doesn't."

Chris shakes his head. _Shit._ He meets Leonard's concerned gaze for a second before looking back at Dael. "Would you stay with Leonard for a moment? I'll have a little chat with Jim."

She nods, leaning against the wall. When Chris walks out, his lover stops him in passing.

"You know, Jim's mother..." Leonard says quietly.

"I don't know all the details, but I'll be careful." Chris squeezes his hand. "We'll manage. Trust me."

Leonard nods and steps out of the way. "If you can't get to him in that matter, nobody will. Do your worst, Admiral."

***

Chris finds Jim on the terrace, which seems to become the place of confession for their foursome, or at least the one he prefers for that himself. Jim's sitting on top of the rectangular table that Dael had brought out recently for her art supplies, both feet on a chair. His arms are tightly locked around his chest, with his back to the door to the apartment signaling his inner uproar.

Carefully, Chris takes a wide circle around Jim to approach him from the front, then leans against the handrail a few meters away from the tense figure. No need to push Jim any further than the situation itself already did.

They remain in silence for a while. It's getting a little cool for Chris out here and he shivers, wishing he'd have thought of donning a sweater, but he's still patiently waiting for the first crack in Jim's hull.

"She promised," Jim mutters at last. "We talked about it and she promised she wouldn't leave for two years after his birth."

"Maybe she did, but he isn't born yet. Do you fear another miscarriage?"

"Maybe," Jim says. "No," he relents a second later. "All is looking good, and Bones has hammered it into my head often enough by now that there's always a residual risk that we can't control, no matter what we do."

"So what is it?"

Jim tightly presses his lips together, staring into the distance.

"I remember a man," Chris says slowly, "who threw a line at me, years ago, that he had a problem with the way I ran my relationship with Dael. And he was right. So I worked on my hangups, and I learned to support her and still give her room to grow."

"And now you can rub it in that this time, I'm the problem and not you," Jim says stiffly.

"Are you?"

The way Jim lowers his head shows Chris that he made another chink in his lover's armor. For another few minutes, they wait in silence while from far below, the city noises of a busy day creep upwards to them.

"It started just like that," Jim whispers. " _I'm only away for a week. I_ _'_ _m only attending a conference. I just have a special mission on Mars._ One week turned into a month, then six months, then years. She never came home on the date she said she would, and when she was home, she only cared about leaving as fast as possible." He looks up, meeting Chris' gaze. "And worst of all, she never believed anything we told her, because believing it would've meant she would have had to actually _do_ something about it."

Chris nods. "And now you think Dael might do the same."

"Do I ask for too much when I want her to stay here for a while?" Jim says bitterly. "Don't you care at all that just when we're all here, she's already making plans to leave?"

"I can see how your past makes you confuse leaving for a trip with leaving _you_ , but that's not how it really is, and you should know that," Chris says. "Dael isn't your mother."

Unlacing his arms, Jim gestures. "But she's about to do the same thing –"

"Dael is _not_ your mother," Chris repeats pronounced, letting it sink in for a moment. "And Dael will be a different mother than the one you experienced. First of all, can you imagine what Dael would do to anyone who laid a hand on her children? Can you?"

Jim balls his hands into fists. "She'd kill the guy," he says tonelessly.

"Yes, she'd do that. Not because she's a killer, as she sometimes fears, but because she'll defend her family by any means."

"I know."

"And what's also different – she's not alone. We are four. Even if one or two of us die, our children will have parents left to care for them. Even if _all_ of us died, they'd have an extended family with people like Tom who would offer them a home in which they could grow up in a positive, supportive environment."

Jim brings one fist to his mouth. "I know, Chris. Rationally, I _know_. But when she showed me the message, all I could think is that it starts with this conference and ends with her never being here."

"Maybe she'll cancel the conference for you. Maybe she'll stay on Earth for two years because she promised you. Will you be satisfied by that? Or do you want to chain her down, force her to become the mother you dream of, not the person she wants to be?" Chris challenges him. "Do you think that would work out in the long run?"

"No. No, it wouldn't."

"I'll leave once in a while. You'll leave too. Maybe Mori won't send you out for a few months, but sooner or later you'll go on a mission somewhere. Because Starfleet operates in space, you know, and that's where we all truly want to be."

"I can't believe you're giving me that line," Jim groans. "Guess I earned that."

"Hmm?" Chris asks confused, broken out of his stride.

"I gave Bones that line on our very first meeting, when we sat next to each other in the shuttle you piloted to the Academy. Bones – the one of us who never really wanted to go into space." Turning somber again, he says, "I know I can't hold her here by force. I just wish... things were different. She were different."

"Not really," Chris says, shaking his head. "Because if she were someone else, she might be like Tom's wife. And I don't think you'd be content with that, nice as Cordelia is."

Jim sighs. "Right again."

Pushing himself away from the bannister, Chris walks over, putting his hands on Jim's shoulders. "Let her leave, and she'll come back happier for it."

"You make it sound so easy..." Jim looks at him, a plea in his blue eyes.

"It wasn't back then but it's easier now. Her first away missions were hell, her strange messages leaving me sleepless out of concern for her safety and sanity. But she's come a long way, and she won't go alone. Spock will be with her, and you know how protective he is." No need to tell Jim about Spock's confession that he almost got them both killed – Chris is sure that won't happen again.

"Yes." Jim leans forward, resting his head against Chris' collarbone and curling his arms around him. Chris runs his hands up his lover's neck, cradling him in return.

"I'll do my best, but I can't promise I'll be as understanding as she wants me to be right away," Jim says muffled. "I need some time."

"She knows that. She understands where you're coming from, and she loves you. But there's one thing you absolutely can't do again, and that is to corner her like you did in the kitchen. You know she can't deal with that kind of aggression from any of us."

"I'm sorry," Jim says contritely.

"It's the easiest way to drive her away. It almost happened to me. Don't make the same mistakes as I did."

"You were ill."

"It's an excuse, but it doesn't undo it. She has her limits, and that's a pretty hard one."

"Yeah. Shit."

When Chris looks up, he finds Dael standing at the door to the terrace. She looks serious, but the simple fact that she's not curled up somewhere but is actively approaching Jim to talk is an extremely good sign. Dael gives him a questioning gaze, and he nods, lifting three fingers. _Give us three more minutes._

"Are you ready to apologize in person?" he asks quietly, for Jim's ears only.

Jim tenses under his hands, raising his head. "She's here?"

"Right in the doorway, waiting for a signal from me."

He can see Jim swallow. "Need get my act together then, I guess."

Chris leans down, placing a kiss on his partner's forehead. He knows so well how battling one's demons feels, and how necessary winning over them is. "You'll do fine. Trust in her. She wants this – your child, our family, _everything_ , but she also wants to help others who aren't in her comfortable position yet. That's her life's desire. Don't make her choose between you and that, it can only end in everyone losing."

"Yes, sir. I understand," Jim replies, and it could have sounded mocking but there's a sincerity in his voice that speaks of the respect between them, all the years they've grown together from mentor and protégé to admiral and captain and then lovers and partners, with changing roles in their foursome.

Confirming that interpretation, Jim stands up and pulls him into a tight embrace for a moment before releasing him. "Love you, Chris. Thank you."

"I learned from the best." Chris smiles and parts, walking towards the terrace door.

"You okay?" he asks Dael when they meet on the threshold.

"I will be." She looks at Jim, who's now turned towards them, nervously waiting next to the table. "Did he listen?"

"Yes, I think this time he listened and got it," he says, meeting the concerned gaze of Leonard who's standing in the shadows of the corridors.

She reaches out, briefly squeezing his hand. "Thank you." Then she inhales deeply and walks towards Jim.

"I guess it's going to take a while until Jim can live with her being gone once in a while," Chris says quietly, leaning against Leonard.

"No shit," the doc replies with a sigh, draping one arm around his shoulder. "I feel like I've already talked myself blue in the face over the last couple months. Maybe it's easier for him to listen to you."

"Maybe, yes." Sweeping a kiss along the doc's cheek, Chris unlaces and turns. "I'm cold, and I seriously need a cup of coffee. You coming?"

With a last gaze at the couple outside who're engaged in an embrace of their own, the doc turns and follows.


	4. Three-and-a-half years later...

"Welcome back to Earth, Mr. Pike," the immigration officer says and hands him back his ID card. Outside, his transport is waiting for him.

"Home, sir?" the driver asks when taking the luggage, and Chris nods. As soon as the sleek low-fly shuttle sets off, Chris flicks open his PADD once more. There are a few last messages he needs to send to wrap up his part in the newest trade agreement with Aldebaran.

He's late enough already; his meticulously planned schedule had been thrown overboard when George had needed to undergo a critical brain surgery on very short notice, which had left Iro unable to deal with his daily business. Between being there for his friends and also taking over some of Iro's most pressing projects, even if just to arrange for the best substitutes to take over, Chris' timetable had descended into utter chaos – not a state he feels comfortable dealing with. And it would probably stay like this for the next few weeks, until the couple would hopefully return from the beach. He loosely plans to visit them there for a few days.

But this weekend belongs solely to his family, so Chris writes his final two messages for now and sends them out into space via the IXOS cryptonet. 

Then he looks out into the night, glad to find they're already approaching the main gate. Above it in large letters, there are the words " _Not Kansas_ ," and as always Chris can't help shaking his head over it.

_I don't want to call it Oz, but we're not in Kansas anymore either_ , Jim had said in reference to some obscure twentieth century children book.

It hasn't always been easy, it's still getting better all the time. Hopefully, this trend wouldn't stop for a while… although, with the need to change his Borg implant drawing closer, Chris is always aware of the possibility that he won't be there in the future. It makes him cherish every single day of his quite perfect life even more.

The driver enters the code for the main gate, and the shuttle glides along the road, quickly approaching the main door when Chris signals stop.

"I'll walk the last few meters," he says. "Thanks, Mister Thompson. I don't think you'll have to come here for a few months."

"Always a pleasure driving out here, sir," the driver says and takes his luggage out for him before turning and leaving.

Chris lets it stand there for a moment, taking a short trip to the stables first. They're dark, quiet and peaceful, not very surprising at half past three in the morning, and he walks along the stalls to the horse Leonard regularly teases him about. Ashaire stands in his stall with his head raised regally, his black coat shimmering in the low moonlight.

"Shhh, my beauty," Chris whispers as his stallion snorts welcomingly. He feeds him an apple while stroking the slim nose. Chris shares just about everything with his tribe, but not this horse. Officially, he claims that the other three just don't know how to ride, but unofficially, all are sure Ashaire is his personal obsession.

So what, he's entitled to some obsessions, right?

Leaving the stables, he picks up his bags and walks to the back door. There's light in the kitchen, and the young man at the table looks up from his task as he enters.

"Welcome home, sir," the man says.

"Hello – Hector Cho, right? You're Captain Cho's nephew."

"Yes, sir," Hector replies. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Please, call me Chris," Chris says and shakes the young man's hand. The tribe had engaged Hector while he'd been away, but the guy looked like a good choice, given the interrupted task, a large cake with a circle of candles on its top and a '3' in their middle.

"And here I thought you're the night watch," Chris says. They'd resisted the idea of security measures for a while, but it had become necessary after a few threats. The least they could do now is make everyone who works on the farm feel like a part of the crew.

"I am, but the others were running late with the preparations and so I offered to finish the decoration," Hector says. " Think he'll like it?"

"Undoubtedly," Chris says, thinking that with the limited attention span of kids, such a cake is always more for the adults than the actual birthday child. "Well-done. I suppose the others have gone to bed already?"

As Hector nods, he takes his luggage. "I'll retreat then too. See you tomorrow." He shakes his head as the young man offers to help him. The day he isn't able to carry two medium-sized bags up these easy stairways, he should definitely retire.

Walking along the doors in the private corridor on the first floor, he checks out their coding, surprised when the other three turn out to be in Dael's room, as signaled by the three different-colored heart magnets. That's rare, and he hopes there's nothing wrong, for a moment wondering whether he should just join them. The magnets, after all, are slapped over the large heart that says "all welcome", not over the other areas saying "twosome moment" or "alone by intention", colorful designs by Dael with some hand prints by her uncreative partners on each door. But then he decides to head to his own room. The next day would probably be a little strenuous for them all, and he could use a few hours of good sleep in his own bed. They'll hopefully wake him up in time, is his last thought before falling asleep, bags untouched.

***

The next morning, the sun is already high in the sky when he wakes up, jumping out of bed for fear of being late before finding the message on his PADD, " _Welcome home, lover. We decided to let you sleep, no need to hurry. Just join us when you're ready. Hugs and kisses, D &J&B._"

Heeding their advice, he takes a shower, dresses up in something comfortable yet still presentable for their guests before walking into the small kitchen next to his room where his old but still favorite coffee maker hides. The kitchen isn't empty, though.

"Christopher," the old man says and inclines his head.

"Good morning, Spock. Glad to see you," Chris greets the honorary grandfather of their son before getting a cup of coffee. He looks down into the garden, eying the assembly. Jim is tackling the grill, the doc just carrying out something like a dessert, both looking excited and happy. In addition to his tribe and most of their staff, there are also some of their more tolerant neighbors and Arissa and her own small tribe, including the two girls that currently have a summer job here and could be Dael's younger sisters from their looks and behavior.

And of course, there are Nat, Tom and Cordelia with the kids. The first time Tom's children had seen the baby boy, they'd asked why he didn't have the same patterns as Dael, confirming Chris' long-standing hunch that they saw Dael as a species of her own. John and Eric couldn't make it to Earth, but Chris is able to deliver their friends' best wishes and some funny tidbits after having met them and their current third, a _male_ Orion for a change, a few weeks ago.

Chris smiles softly as he sees Dael taking care of Ray, making her son squeal in high-pitched delight when being put up on her shoulder.

"Thanks for bringing her back in time," he addresses Spock. "There'd be trouble in paradise if she missed any of Ray's birthdays."

"Jim is a very proud father."

Chris nods. "Ray is so much like Jim, he couldn't resemble him more if he were his clone. Sometimes it's almost eerie."

"So you do not have fatherly feelings for your son?" Spock asks, one brow rising in wondrous, slight disapproval.

"I love him but it's probably not like Jim feels about him." Besides, Chris has minority ideas about child rearing, and the one time he'd playfully spanked Ray, Jim had almost ripped his head off. After that, he'd decided that he'd better wait until the boy could go riding with him.

"Are you going to take her on another mission soon?" Chris asks.

Spock's thoughtful eyes sweep over him for a moment, before the Vulcan says, "I do not break confidence when I say that she does not intend to leave for another two years."

Chris frowns. "Why -?" _Two years._ "She's pregnant again."

"Yes."

Chris starts calculating. He'd been on Aldebaran for negotiations, Jim had been on Utopia Planitia to put the last touches on the _Excelsior_ , so they had both been away for three weeks before Dael had left herself. And she probably wouldn't have gone on tour if she had known about the pregnancy already. 

"Leonard?" he asks, astonished. Dael and the doc love each other in a quiet way, but this…

"Apparently, yes." There's that almost-smile again. "She claims she asked, and he agreed."

"Whoa." Chris really wants to get _that story_ in detail. 

His eyes stray to the window again but Dael seems to have gone out of sight. Moments later, she strides along the corridor without looking into the small kitchen, going to her room.

"Please excuse me for a moment," Chris says. "I need to have a few words with her." Cup put aside, he quickly walks over to her room and knocks.

Dael smiles as he enters on her _come in_. "Christopher," she says and turns to embrace him. "So happy you're here." They kiss, first sweet, then harder. "I really missed you," she whispers and runs her hands down his sides. She wears a white summer dress, a style he still can't reconcile with the Dael he prefers, but it makes some things easier. First, however…

"Dael, love… Heard you've got to tell me something?"

"Spock told you?" she asks. "He's a real gossip for a Vulcan. But yes, we're having another child."

Chris pulls her close. "Spock alluded to Leonard being the father?"

"Yes. It took some discussion, but we got it sorted out."

"How did you convince him?"

"I told him I wanted to have a wonderful, sweet girl with him," she says, her smile deepening. "We barely made it out of bed the whole week. I knew he was a good lover but I didn't know just how dedicated he could be."

"Don't blame me, I know how great he is." His fingers delve under the skirt, palming her hips. "So, is it a girl?"

"Yes."

"He's happy," Chris states. "Really happy. I could see that even from a distance."

Dael nods. "He's also nervous. But he'll survive." She places a chaste kiss on his lips, but Chris kisses her back deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He can feel his half-hard erection rubbing against her stomach.

"Does it turn you on?" Dael whispers, and much as he'd like to reject the idea, there's something deep down in his mind that agrees. Maybe it's got to do with that smile on her face and that gleam in her eyes.

"You turn me on," he says, and it's true. She's become a woman, no doubt, the face a little rounder and her breasts a little more pronounced, and he caresses one nipple with his fingers, so damn hot for her. She's a woman and she's _his_ and _theirs._ They fucking made it and this baby will only cement their tribe further.

"Make love to me," she whispers against his mouth after another kiss. They're out of their clothes in the blink of an eye, making out in a strange mix of wild and tender. Her orgasm is long and intense and he envies her a little as he holds her through it. When they're done and curled together on the bed, there's a knock on the door.

"Come in," Chris says without bothering to reach for a blanket, pretty sure who it is.

The doc peeks in. "You good?"

"Very good. Come and join us, _daddy_."

Leonard huffs a laugh as he walks into the bedroom. "It's so strange. Your wife's got a damn silver tongue." He moves to sit down on the bed but they pull him down, so they end with Dael sandwiched between them. Dael gives the doc a light slap and he laughs again.

"One of these days we're going to divorce just so you stop calling her my wife," Chris grouses.

"Just teasing you," Leonard says apologizing. "Love you both so much," he adds, kissing Dael.

"We love you too. Congratulations." Chris reaches over to pull his lover into a deep kiss.

"I've already talked to the Surgeon General, I'll take a sabbatical take next year and write my next book," Leonard says.

"Sure you'll get anything done with this flea circus?" Chris asks. He's not surprised that Leonard readily takes more family chores upon himself – while they'd agreed that all of them could spend time off-planet on projects, Leonard is the one least inclined to do that.

"Sure. Oh, it'll be wonderful," Leonard says and kisses Dael once more, before she and Chris quickly go to clean themselves up, getting ready to face the guests again.

Leonard smirks as he looks out of the window. "Ray didn't want to blow out the candles before Sir Christopher got here."

"Sir Christopher sounds like a really stupid knight," Chris states with an eye roll as they walk out of the room. "Did Jim tell him another silly story?"

"Only about three knights and a queen who went out to fight the villain Nero of the large, dark ship _Narada_."

Dael shakes her head. "If he gives Ray any more nightmares with that, he'll be in trouble."

"The knights and the queen survive, of course, and buy a castle out in the desert, to live happily ever after." They've reached the door to the garden by now, and Chris smiles as Nat spots them, nudging Jim and Raymond to look in their direction. Father and son beam at them, agitatedly waving their hands.

"Ready to face the beasts?" Leonard chuckles and holds the door open for them. Chris takes Dael's hand, squeezing it tightly as he looks at her. "Are we?"

"We are," Dael says, and they walk out to the party.

**** THE END ******


End file.
